Alone Again
by Piano'sIrishTater
Summary: What do you do when your life falls apart? When your parents won't stop fighting? When the Frenchman in your class harasses you about EVERYTHING? And WHAT the bloody hell do you do when a dirty little street rat follows you home from school! USUK ;D
1. Street Rat

**Hello everyone! This is my next new little project, a spinoff kind of flashback story from Chronicles of a Sexy Greek Man! Hope you enjoy and please review! :D**

_Arthur's POV_

Okay, I had to focus. Focus was all that I needed now. Yes, if I could just make this very last cake perfect, I would be able to make up for a year's worth of flunking and I would be able to pass this bloody class with an A! Nervously, I added the very last drop of olive oil to the mix and stirred, being sure that not a chunk of powder remained at the end of the beating. When I was satisfied, I scraped the very last bit of batter into the pan and placed it in the oven, double-checking to be absolutely certain that I had heated it up to exactly the correct heat and placed the right numbers on the timer.

Now all I had to do was wait.

Sighing in relief, I leaned back against the counter and watched all the other students struggling to mix their own concoctions. It seemed that everyone was having problems with this assignment. We had been ordered to create a do-it-yourself dish that was both pleasing to the taste buds and attractive to the eye, which was fairly vague and rather… confusing to most of the idiots in home economics. I, knowing that creating my own idea from scratch would backfire, had chosen to bake a cake of my own design, an old recipe from my Grandmummy redone to fit my personal style. It was, admittedly, one of the only things that seemed to go well when I cooked it.

"Finally! I thought you would never finish!"

I turned to find the only kid in the class with an A, Francis Bonnefoy, staring at me with an aggravatingly arrogant smirk. Ever since we had met in first grade, this bastard had been competing with me, always attempting to one-up me in every bloody thing he possibly could, infuriating me to absolutely no end. Today I would finally be able to get my revenge on that wanker! Smiling maniacally, I turned to him.

"The contest isn't who finishes first, frog! It's whose food tastes better!"

He just grinned further and flipped his stupid gay hair with a wink. "Which will obviously be mine, _non_?"

I just turned away from him, the smile not fading from my face, and turned the oven light on, sticking my face to the glass to watch my cake. "Absolutely not! Even a stupid Frenchy like you can't beat my dear Grandmummy's cooking skill!"

He snickered, obviously showing off for his friends when he said, "We will see, little punk," and strutting snootily back over to where Antonio and Gilbert stood laughing.

Feeling a faint wave of jealousy that he had friends to partner up with, I scowled and looked back at my creation, which appeared to be doing rather well. It wasn't my bloody fault nobody wanted to talk to me! Stupid Francis had made it impossible from the very beginning, spreading personal things that I had once told him in elementary school, when we had been friends, around the class. Because of him, I had been ignored immediately upon entering middle school. Even now, in eighth grade, I was completely friendless… All alone in this stupid school with these stupid people! As if puberty wasn't hard enough.

Not that I really wanted to be at home with Mum and Dad. I couldn't stand their bickering; it was getting worse with every passing day rather than better, and they always fought about the same damn thing every time! It was always money! Mum would yell at Dad for wasting all of our money on pointless hobbies such as gambling and drinking and Dad would yell back at Mum that the reason we were so bloody poor was that she had had too many damned children. Personally, I didn't believe that six children were too many. And one of us was adopted. Yet, no matter what, they would fight and bicker through the night, going on and on about how much they hated each other and how unhappy they were in life…

At this point, the divorce was all but inevitable.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the oven, suddenly exhausted. Why couldn't they just stop? Couldn't they at least pull it together for Peter? He was just a little baby… Even if he was annoying and never shut up, he didn't deserve to grow up with parents like ours. Neither did the rest of us, really. At fifteen, I was the second oldest and with that came responsibility. It was sad that I had to act like my brothers' Mum because my elder brother was already gone off to Uni and left me behind to take the heat. Not that he would've helped even if he had been there…

"Arthur!"

I was awakened by the sounds of many frantic shrieks coming from all around me, screaming my name and what could only be interpreted as the word "fire." Shocked, I leapt to my feet and fell backward against the counter just in time for Mrs. Jackson to hurriedly shoot the licking flames coming from my oven with a fire extinguisher. I watched in horror-filled pain as all my hopes of an A were doused along with the cake that I had tried so very hard to make perfect. The fire was easily contained and, within seconds was gone completely, leaving nothing but a ruined project and an infuriated teacher to show for my effort.

"Arthur Kirkland! I've tried very hard to be patient with you this year because I see how hard you try, but this is inexcusable! I realize that you were only doing the best that you could, but you HAVE TO FOLLOW THROUGH! You HAVE to watch the oven so you can know when your food is done! I'm sorry, but in reality I have no choice but to automatically fail you on this project." She sighed, running a shaking hand through her greasy brown hair. "Better luck next year, kiddo. I promise, I'll be sure you have a partner to help you the next go round."

I could feel pressure building behind my eyes, my shock the only thing keeping the tears in. This… couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. There was no way I had just set the oven on fire… Even I wasn't pathetic enough to do such a lame thing… was I? Looking up into the mocking blue eyes of Francis and seeing the euphoria there… maybe I was. Yes, maybe I was just as pathetic as I always knew I had been. Well, there was no maybe about it, really, since I had just set the whole bloody thing on fire. Barely registering what I was doing, I ran into the hallway, trying hard not to look into the mocking faces of the pupils I had been forced to put up with.

I managed to keep my tears in until I was outside of the school and halfway across the road to my house. Sobbing miserably as I reached the gate in the front, I realized that it probably wasn't smart to go home after ditching school, so I headed off in the other direction, every step I took causing me to cry even harder. Why the hell did my life have to be like this? I couldn't keep an A in any class, I couldn't make friends, I couldn't do anything without being scolded, and, most importantly, I couldn't make anyone happy. It felt like all I did was yell anymore… Yell and cry like the wimp I had turned into.

Shoving my hands into my pockets and looking down at my well-polished shoes, I trudged down the side of the road, for the first real time considering jumping in front of one of the oncoming cars. Just as I was gaining the courage to do so, I passed an alley full of garbage, one that smelled so god-awful that I couldn't resist the urge to look down it. What could POSSIBLY smell that terrible? But, instead of the huge mound of garbage bags I had expected, there was a single pair of wide, frightened blue eyes gazing down at me from a rather large dumpster. Immediately I froze, my maternal instinct kicking in. What was a young little chap like him doing there all alone? Then my eyes registered his clothes, which were ratted and filthy, just like his whole smelly body and two words came to mind.

Street rat.

Embarrassed that I had even thought of stopping for such an undignifying child, I continued on, wiping at my eyes to rid myself of the tears that were running down my face. I had just reached the corner of the street and was about to turn left to continue to the park when I noticed him, standing a few meters away sucking his thumb. Wha…? The little bugger had FOLLOWED me! Setting my shoulders tightly, I continued on my way, praying that he would get bored with me soon and just go back to his little bloody cave to take a nap or scrounge up half-eaten food or something. He continued to shadow me for several blocks, walking a little ways behind, all the time sucking his thumb and staring intently at me with those large, pleading azure eyes of his… Finally I broke, spinning quickly to face him.

"Can I HELP you?" I asked fiercely, crossing my arms.

He just stared, smiling around the thumb in his mouth. Now that I was getting a better look at the child, he appeared to be around eight years old, which meant that CLEARLY he was way too old to be exhibiting such a behavior. He was dirty from head to toe, with dark, dark blonde hair matted with muck and skin that almost appeared tan it was so disgusting. He was squinting at me in a way that very much suggested he needed glasses and his clothing left very, very much to be desired. I made sure my glare was extra icy; even street rat children were a danger to society. They made the best pickpockets.

"Excuse me, but do you speak? At least bloody NOD or something!"

He blinked again before nodding and saying, taking his thumb out of his mouth much to my surprise, "Yeah!" His eyebrows slanted, taking on a look of worry. "I was sad… Brother was crying! I had to make sure he was okay!"

Stunned, I had to ask, "Brother? Where on Earth is your brother? Did you lose him?"

"Uh-uh. Brother isn't lost. Brother's you!" he giggled, skipping over to me and taking my clean, well-groomed hand into his much smaller, dirt-coated one.

Angrily, I yanked it away from his grip. "Unhand me, filth! I'm not your brother and I don't know who you are, so if you would just kindly let me go about my own business…"

Despite my infuriated movement, he still had a foolishly stupid grin on his face, showing all three of his little dimples. "My name's Alfred Jones and I'm from America, my birthday is July fourth, I'm eight years old, I have a younger brother named Matthew, I like hamburgers with ketchup smileys on 'em, I was born in Texas, I lost my front teethies together, chocolate ice cream is my favorite, and my mommy told me never to talk to strangers! Now you, now you, now YOU! I wanna know more about Brother!"

He looked up at me expectantly, his eyes gleaming with innocent excitement.

I sighed, scratching the back of my head. "If I must to make you leave… alright, let's see… my name is Arthur Kirkland, I'm…uh…. From here… my birthday is March twenty-third, I'm fifteen years old, I have four younger brothers but their names are relatively unimportant…er, I am not even remotely a fan of hamburgers, with or without ketchup smileys, I was born in London, I… don't QUITE recall when I lost my front teeth, I'm a fan of butterscotch ice cream, and… my mummy told me never to talk to bastard street rats like you. There, are you satisfied? May I go about my day now?"

For a moment, he was intensely quiet, so I barely expected it when he screamed out of the blue, "BROTHER IS THE AWESOMEST!" and latched onto my leg. "Brother, one day I'm going to save you from the big, evil dragons that made you cry, okay? One day, I'll be your hero!"

I could feel the stress of my day kicking in, a migraine of pure evil forming in my head. My resolve was dissipating… What could it hurt, really? I could just bring him home with me, wash him up a bit, feed him, and send him on his merry little way. We would both be happy then. My decision made, I pried him off of my leg, trying not to be completely disgusted by the large dirt stain that he had left on my trousers.

"Very well, then. You may come home with me, but only for a good scrubbing and some food. And no, I will not carry you."

"Really?" His cheeks puffed up in excitement, and I could've sworn I saw a star gleam in the bright smile he gave me as he cuddled my leg. "I love my Brother!"

What had I just done…?

Thankfully, luck appeared to be on my side, because when we reached the house, nobody was home. It would be easier to do this without having to explain why a little rat had followed me into the bathroom. Inside, I yanked some of my second youngest brother's clothes and a towel out of a drawer before grabbing the bugger by the collar and pulling him into the bathroom, starting a bath when he was still. I checked the heat several times to be sure he wouldn't burn before turning on him, my hands on my hips.

"Okay, Alfred. Clothes off," I ordered.

He looked down at his rags dismally and back up at me, his small face reddening. "In front of you?"

I stared at him, dumbstruck, before throwing my hands up, frustrated. "Yes, in front of me! It isn't as if you've got anything I haven't! Why are you suddenly self-conscious? Did you expect I would bathe you in clothes?"

Fiddling with his fingers, he looked down and shook his head. "I can do it by myself, y'know…"

Impatiently, I walked over and unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it into the wastebasket by the toilet. "Maybe, but there's no way you would get all of the dirt out yourself! It must be in ALL your bloody nooks and crannies, you're so filthy! Come on, off with your underwear as well! I want to finish this before my parents find out!"

Reluctantly, he pulled off the rest of his clothes, running over and slipping into the bathtub hurriedly, as if the water prevented me from seeing anything. Though after he took one step into it, it morphed into a pool of brackish brown liquid, so maybe it did. Holding back my immediate feeling of nausea, I reached down into the water and pulled the plug, re-turning on the water and instead putting it on shower. I had quite vastly underestimated his muck.

The rain shower was much more efficient at decontaminating his body, washing it off in one fell swoop. Alfred was fascinated as he watched his skin reappear as a pale white instead of tan, his hair golden blonde instead of dark. I grabbed the soap off the side of the tub and quickly began scrubbing it all over him, making note to get a new bar after I was done. He coughed and squirmed, making the cleaning process slightly difficult and causing me to get soap into his eyes. He screamed for about a minute, which gave me the perfect opportunity to strike the rest of him, including shampooing and conditioning his hair and running a brush through the matted locks.

When we were finally done, I was just as wet as Alfred, my perfect clothes soaked through, completely saturated with the nasty water he had been in. He, meanwhile, was running around the house naked, screaming excitedly. Apparently, he no longer cared who saw his manparts. I trudged after him with a towel, catching him long enough to clothe him before I had to release him again to cook him some dinner. Warily, I stayed away from the oven, using only the microwave to make him some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Though it was lightly burnt, he shoved it all in his mouth frantically, his eyes again shining with energy and excitement. This bloody bugger was literally high off of life…

Alfred's skinny frame didn't fit my brother's clothes quite right; they were baggy around him and looked slightly strange due to their Asian originality. My nine-year-old adopted brother was from Hong Kong and my mum really like to dress him as close to the actual culture as she could… which was truly ridiculous. Alfred looked like he rather belonged in a hoodie or something more…American. But it was the best I could do, given that I had just found him on the street. As he sucked down the cheese-drenched noodles, he seemed faraway and distant, maybe thinking about how much he missed living in his own home, where people fed and clothed him and cared for him… which made me wonder what had happened to him.

"Alfred?" I asked, breaking him out of his creepy trance-like state. "Where's your Mum? And your brother? Why were you abandoned in the streets of London?"

Suddenly, he put his fork down and met my eye, all serious, like a little business man. I couldn't help but quickly imagine him in a tiny suit.

"I don't know. I lived with my daddy here. My mommy and daddy split up a few years ago and Mattie went with Mom and I went with Dad 'cause that's what they wanted. Then Daddy moved here with me. After a month, he ran away and then I ran away too, to go find him, but I got lost… then I found Daddy and he wasn't right anymore… so I got scared and hid…"

Looking into Alfred's earnest eyes and hearing his story, I couldn't help but imagine a certain other blonde boy with blue eyes, years from now, telling the same tale to some stranger. But Peter wouldn't have to if I got him out of here. I had to save him. Feeling intense emotion rise up in me, I pulled the small boy into my arms, letting him bury his head into my chest and hug me tightly. I stroked his hair soothingly, muttering softly. There was no way I could just send him back to roam the streets now.

"It's okay… everything will be okay… I'll take care of you, I swear I will. I'm going to protect you, Alfred, no matter what."

**The brothers from youngest to oldest: Sealand, Hong Kong, Australia, Ireland, England, Scotland. Wales can be cousin or something! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Brotherly Love

**Hello, it's me! Soooooo sorry it took me this long to update this story, but it IS almost the end of the school year where I am, so i have all kinds of finals and I've kind of been having a rough time because my dog is sick... Anyway, I'm really sorry about any grammar mistakes and I hope you enjoy it! **

I lay my head down on my desk, completely exhausted. I hadn't realized how much of a pain it would be to have a child of my own! I now felt a new sympathy for my poor Mum. Maybe six children WAS quite a few. I could hardly cope with one! Of course, my situation was slightly different in several ways, such as I was a teenager with no job, I had found this kid and taken him off the street, and… well… my parents didn't QUITE know about Alfred yet. Unthinkingly, I had just made up a bed in my closet and thrown him in there, with some snacks and books to entertain him.

The plan had been bloody brilliant until I'd had to go to school and leave him with my family.

The little bugger had stayed up all night demanding that I read him a ridiculous bedtime story, so I was fighting against the heaviness of my eyelids, while worry pounded me from all sides of my brain. He'd promised he'd be good and stay put, but would he really? Would my Mum or Dad go in my closet to put away clothes and find him there, all snuggled up in blankets, the stuffed rabbit I had given to him curled between his tiny fingers? As the image of Alfred's small sleeping figure overtook my mind, I finally gave up trying to half-pretend to do the busy work our science teacher had assigned and let my eyes close, drifting off into a restless sleep.

When I woke again, I knew something was off. The very second I sat up, wiping the sleep off my face, everyone started giggling and looking over at me, whispering to their friends as if I wasn't even there to hear them. I was about to confront them on just what was SO bloody FUNNY, when I felt a light tug on the sleeve of my shirt. Quickly, I looked down, ready to yell all the obscenities in the book if they'd done something to my clothing, but the first word caught in my mouth as I saw not ruined clothes, but two large blue eyes, staring happily up at me.

"A-Alfred… WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" I yelled, leaping up involuntarily.

This couldn't be happening! This was impossible!

He cringed back from my fury, which made some of the girls in the classroom "aww" at his sad face. "I got scared…" he mumbled, clinging to my leg again. "There's ghosts in your house, Brother…. And it was all empty without you!"

My hardened look softened involuntarily at his fragility. I pulled him off my leg before kneeling down next to him to even our heights and taking his small hand, saying with a chuckle, "Alfred, you don't need to be afraid of the creatures in my room! They're very nice, actually, once you get to know them. And they positively despise being referred to as ghosts, so please just call them by their names. I'll introduce you all later, alright? Good. So now, I must ask you to please go back to my hou-"

"Mr. Kirkland, what's going on here?"

I cringed as the teacher came over, hands on his hips, gray eyes icy.

"U-uh…" I stood quickly, never letting go of Alfred's hand. "I'm very sorry, Sir, but my little brother has some serious form of dementia, and sometimes he gets very, very confused and wanders out of the house… Mum is probably at the store, so he came after me… I apologize, but may I take him home now, Mr. Eddison?"

He turned his steely eyes toward the little boy next to me, his perpetual frown never leaving his old, crinkled face. Alfred being Alfred, he just smiled and waved at the stranger, completely oblivious that he'd done anything wrong in walking in here. I tried to look as convincing as possible as well, desperately wanting a chance to leave this room now that everyone was gawking at me.

"You may call your mother to come pick him up in the main office," he grumbled, meandering back over to his desk and writing me a quick pass.

Feeling my heart sink into my stomach, I took the pass, thanked him, and left, Alfred starting to sing and skip as we walked out. What was I going to do now? Maybe I could leave the school anyway, despite his orders. Just take Alfred home, find a lock for the closet door, and come back to finish the day. Who was here to stop me anyhow? Looking from side to side, I yanked the boy up into my arms and ran out the doors, homebound.

"Alfred, you can't just follow me when you want to! I'm at school! And I told you to stay put, you little wanker!" I scolded him as we rounded the corner to the house. "Now Daddy... I mean, now Brother is going to be forced to put a lock on your door so that you'll stay where you belong!"

He struggled unhappily in my grip. "But what if I have to go pee?"

"I…I'll leave a little training potty in there for you. Thankfully, Peter's still a baby, so it shouldn't be a problem… Wait, why didn't you ask that when I put you in there before?"

A smile lit up his features, but he just giggled, saying nothing else before burying his head in my chest.

I clicked my tongue, adjusting my grip on him and digging hurriedly in my backpack to find my house key. "I swear, if I find out you took a wee on my carpet, so help me Alfred I will…"

"Artie?"

I froze, my brain vehemently trying to reject the small voice I had just heard. Shocked, I looked up into the sea-colored eyes of my third youngest brother, Lachlan. Clearly he was confused, absentmindedly pulling at the strings of the ridiculous pink nightshirt our mum had put him in as he stared back and forth between my face and the one of my passenger.

"L-Lachlan! What are you doing home?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise. "Don't you have school today?"

"Yeah, but I barfed this morning so Mum made me stay…" he said in his weird, five-year-old lisped Australian dialect. "What's that?"

I followed his tiny pointing finger to Alfred, who had somewhere along the line begun to pick his nose. I gave an awkward laugh and frantically strained my mind for a quick, believable lie. "U-um, well… you see, Lachlan, Artie found this little boy on the street today and… and… he just took him in to give him some yummy lunch!"

Lachlan blinked. "But it's morning. And Mummy told us never to take in random street peoples."

Damn him! He was too smart for his own good! I sighed, deciding that it would be better just to compromise. "Listen. I DID find him on the street and take him in. His name's Alfred. But I only did it because he needed my help. So I'll give you anything you want as long as you don't tell Mum about him being here, got it?"

Without a thought he gave a happy, "Kay!" He took in an excited gasp of air. "Can I have a koala?"

"Eh… sure. I'll get right on that. Now come along and get back to bed." I paused, the front door half opened. "Hold it, Lachlan. Is Mummy home right now? I didn't see her car…"

He shook his head, pushing past me into the house, his crazy dirty blond antenna hair bouncing insanely as he sprinted down the hall. "She went to go get biscuits!"

Perfect! Now all I needed was for Alfred to behave while I prepared his new little domain. Before he could run away with Lachlan and start planning some bizarre schemes, I dragged him into my bedroom and locked the door, keeping hold of one of his hands as I dug through my underwear drawer for the lock my father had once given me.

"_Arthur," _he had said, handing it to me. _"Your Mum can't afford birth control. So one day, you're probably going to need this."_

Apparently he had been correct, though I had never used it to keep out my younger brothers. They knew coming into my room was a bad plan to begin with; usually, I was busy concocting something made up of dark magic. They didn't seem to appreciate the scary noises that sometimes went with my hobby, so more often than not they'd harass my elder brother instead.

Alfred giggled again just as my hand made contact with the metal of the lock. "Alright, you little bugger, it's time to go back to sleep now," I said, an evil smile slowly spreading across my face as I pulled him closer.

He gave a shriek, attempting to yank his hand from mine and failing miserably. Chuckling, I hauled him up in my arms and brought him to the closet, where I lay him back into his makeshift bed carefully. The second his head hit the pillow, despite everything that was going on, he was completely out, a light snore starting to fill the small room. Feeling maternal again, I lay down beside him, leaning on my elbow so I could stroke his silky blond hair. I was surprised to find that although he was eight, he still had little tufts of baby hair, which stuck up everywhere on his head as small cowlicks, particularly in the front of his head. Amused, I lightly flicked the one closest to me and watched as Alfred fidgeted.

"Such a good boy doesn't deserve to be alone… don't worry, I'll tell my Mum about you soon enough. For now, you just have to be a good little street rat and be patient with your Brother," I told him, my voice nearly a whisper.

In response, a tiny smile flashed across his lips.

Without another word, I kissed his forehead, secured the lock on the door, and went back to school after making sure Lachlan was also in bed and taken care of. The halls of the school seemed dark and gloomy, eerily empty now that I was alone. Despite the hundreds of other teenagers there, I felt completely isolated, as if no one would ever gain the courage to talk to me. As if without Alfred and my brothers, I was completely unneeded. Which was actually quite true.

Taking a deep breath, I wandered into the last hour of the day, the one that had given me so much pain this year. Home economics. Ducking my head, I entered the room, finding myself sitting in the very corner so I wouldn't be forced to deal with everybody's teasing. Nervously, I kept checking the door, my heart racing as the other students came in and took their seats, searching for one evil, evil face in particular. Francis. He was the only one who wouldn't possibly THINK to leave me alone. And, just as I was starting to relax, he walked in right as the bell resounded with a low drone.

The class seemed relatively full today compared to yesterday; the ditchers who hadn't wanted to do the project had come back. Due to this surplus of people, however, I was disturbed to find that the whole class was completely full, every seat taken. Except for the one next to me. The feeling of dread growing in my heart, I tried to do everything I could to make the chair inconspicuous, but it was too late. He had already spotted it and was headed toward me with a demonic smile, the kind only a mischievous Frenchman like himself could pull off. Bullocks…

"_Bonjour, mon ami! _And how is our little fail chef today? I heard about your mishap in fourth hour! Everybody was talking about how a cute little boy came into your classroom and cried to his big brother that there were scary things in his house! Tell me, which one was it? After all, your parents are very BUSY people, so you must have to take care of your _petit frères _a lot!"

Studiously, I attempted to ignore him and pretended to pay attention to what the teacher was saying at the front of the classroom. I would not be provoked by this damn frog! No sir, I would NOT let him bait me! Say what he would, I wouldn't respond to his bloody idiocy!

"…..now, I'll let each of you pick ONE partner….." Ms. Jackson was saying.

Partners? Not again…. That hadn't gone well last time. I was in the midst of setting my depressed stare on some friendly girl in the class to guilt her into being with me when a quite ugly sight with a stubbly chin blocked my vision and grabbed my hand.

"Ms. Jackson, Arthur and I are going to be together!" Francis called across the room, much to my extreme dismay.

I gawked at him for a second before stealing my hand back and yelling, "I think not, frog! I would rather work alone than be forced to partner with your smelly self!"

He gave me a grin, infuriating me with a lazy self-confident shrug. "Ah, but the teacher said we must! Don't you want to be with the almighty chef _moi_? It could be your first A in this class!"

His words knocked the fight right out of me. It was true… never had I once succeeded in getting an A on anything in here, while he had aced everything. That didn't mean he was a better chef though! No, it just meant he had extremely good luck… and I did not. I had too many things working against me in this world. Promising myself I would never give up on finding his motive for this, I fell silent and began to mess with my eyebrows self-consciously.

He raised his own perfectly shaped blond one with a smile, saying, "So then we are together now? _Bon_! Shall we get started, my little punk friend?"

"Fine," I growled sulkily, following him over to one of the many miniature kitchens we had in our room. "And though I'm not quite sure why you've picked me to harass, I just hope you know that I'm on to you, bastard."

He widened his crystalline blue eyes innocently, until they were almost perfect circles. "Why, whatever do you mean? There are no ulterior motives here! I just thought we could try and renew our friendship!" Chuckling quietly and making sure no one was watching, he slipped his fingers through mine and whispered into my ear, "Maybe we could become even closer than that!"

Wait…H-HUH? Was he making a pass at me?

"Wh-what exactly do you mean by that?" I asked, stuttering. "I hope you aren't implying that I would sink so low as to be with a low-life, snail sucking loser such as yourself! And get your filthy hands off of me!"

Surprising me, he complied, releasing his grip on my hand and putting both of his up in a mock defensive position. "Oh, you really think it would be so bad? But if we dated, _mon amour, _you would have so many more friends! You wouldn't have to spend all of your nights alone crying to your imaginary friends anymore! That sounds nice, _non_?"

I gritted my teeth and crossed my arms, snarling irritably, "And just what makes you so sure I am attracted to men to begin with? I happen to not be interested in the LEAST! So that makes you quadruple times more repulsive than you were to begin with!"

A snarky smile turned up his mouth, but he eased off, turning back to the project. "_D'accord!_ Do you think you can get the ingredients for our dish from the refrigerator without breaking something?"

Out of patience for him, I just sighed furiously. "And what ingredients might those be? What exactly are we making?"

"Duh, it is on the board! Ms. Jackson wrote it there while she was explaining! Ah, but you were not paying attention to her, were you? You were too busy freaking out about me sitting next to you!"

I felt my stomach cringe. So he had noticed that, had he? Well it wasn't anything to freak out about! Maybe I had panicked when he'd come into the room and placed his overtly large buttocks into the seat next to mine, but that had been just a natural reaction to his stupid face! Trying not to let him know he was right, I stalked over to the fridge and pulled out the items listed, placing them carefully into a bowl, before bringing them back over to him and sulking quietly as he threw it all together with a magical grace… Okay, so maybe it was more than luck that got him his grades!

When the bell finally rang, I was more than a little relieved to be able to sprint out of the classroom, away from that stupid French menace that was the bane of my existence. Hurriedly, I gathered the books I needed from my locker and headed home, my mind back on Alfred. Had he been okay in there all day? Had he managed to stay quiet and undiscovered by anyone? What would happen if he had? Walking around the corner, a sinking feeling entered my heart as I saw the gleaming red corvette in the drive.

Mum had beat me back.

Feeling sick, I raced down the street to the house, pulling open the front door slightly more quickly than I'd intended. Without thinking, I ran straight inside, hoping to get to my room without being noticed. Of course, something like that could only happen to the strong and the fortunate. My mum was standing right in the entryway, fixing a flower-filled vase until each individual plant stood straight and stiff. She barely glanced up as I streaked by.

"Arthur, dear, where are you going in such a hurry?" she asked nonchalantly.

I froze, caught red-handed. I should have realized I was terrible liar earlier! "U-uh, to my room…"

"And what could you possibly need to run to your room to do, sweetheart?"

"Well…" I started, racking my brains for a believable lie. "There's a project I have for Math class… and I was going to hurry to the kitchen to get the last biscuit before the rest of my brothers got home and then go up to my room and do my homework."

She looked up at me, her emerald eyes piercingly bright. "My dear Arthur… You try so very hard and you're such a good boy! You make decent grades, you play nice with your brothers, and you work for the things you desire. You're probably the most respectful son I have. So tell me, honey…." Her mood shifted then, her blonde brows slanting fiercely, her eyes darkening. "Why on Earth would you disobey the biggest rule I had taught you your whole life? Haven't I been telling you since you were young? Didn't I say, "Now Artie, baby, there are some people out there who can't afford to live like we do. They make their livings digging through garbage, sleeping on the street, and stripping others of their money. If you ever should come across one of these, do NOT let them follow you home, do you hear me? NEVER take them home."?"

Suddenly nauseated, I took a step back, feeling a sweat break across my forehead. "U-uh, yes, Mummy, but I can explain! I really can! It was ju-"

"Arthur Kirkland. I can't afford another child, especially not some rugged piece of trash strewn on the street. So I suggest you either get rid of him of find somewhere else to live." With that, she tossed her hair and stalked out of the room.

Just then, as if he had been listening in, Alfred peered out from behind a corner. "Does that mean I gotta leave?" he asked, staring at his feet guiltily.

Gently, I chuckled and walked over to him, stroking his soft hair again before pulling him into my arms. "No, it doesn't. I promised I would never leave you, didn't I? I'll be with you, no matter what."

With a manic giggle, he hugged me harder and whispered, "Artie, can I tell you a secret?"

Curious, I raised an eyebrow. "Um… Sure."

Smiling hugely, Alfred planted a big kiss smack on my mouth and shouted into my ear with all his might, "I love my big brother!"

**For anyone who was wondering or couldn't get it, Lachlan is an Australia OC. I couldn't find his human name anywhere, so against my wishes i was forced to make one. If anyone had info on his real name, feel free to contact me :) Thank you for reading!**


	3. Desperate

**Yay, it's summer and i can finally try to write everyday! :D Hopefully this means i'll be putting out chapters a bit faster, but if not... well, i hope you still like to read them anyway! Thanks for all your encouraging comments and don't hesitate to tell me how i'm doing! Please enjoy :3**

It had been quite the difficult task explaining to my Mum that it was impossible to leave Alfred to die in the streets alone. She hadn't understood, and every time I'd thought I was securing her trust, she'd freak out and start yelling curses at me again. Though she'd been the one who'd suggested that I leave if I wouldn't leave him, it was disturbingly clear that she didn't want me gone; after all, with me gone, who would be there to watch the children while she was at work? She couldn't very well leave eleven-year-old Fagan in charge of all of the other brothers! She'd have to hire a babysitter, which would cost even more money.

Yet in the end, I had just stomped out of the house in a raging fury, dragging Alfred behind me as my brothers peeked out from bottom of the stairs, eyes wide.

Now I wasn't really sure what to do. Without having had the foresight to plan where I would go if I left, I became just another random street person, wandering around with a sleepy child in my arms. Well, so be it. There was no way I was going back to that bloody household, not with my mum there to scream at me. I would just have to find work… and a place to stay for a bit… and some food for Alfred when he woke… and some clothes… Suddenly, my whole body felt heavy as the horrible reality of my situation set in.

I couldn't do this alone.

Starting to shake, I made certain that Alfred was curled up in my jacket on the curb before I sat down, my head in my hands. I knew I couldn't cry, not with that little bugger so close to me. If his own big brother didn't keep up a tough, strong front for him, who would? I didn't want him to know how absolutely hopeless I felt. So instead of letting the tears that were closing my throat go, I shut my eyes and started humming. It was a tune that everybody knew, but nobody could ever seem to name. Somehow, it kept me calm, even though I was certain my life was spiraling out of control. Just as was about to pick Alfred up and move along, maybe take him to a park or something, a door flew open, narrowly missing conking my head.

Shocked, I shot to my feet, enraged. "Bloody hell! Watch where you're going ,you damn wan-"

"Arthur?"

Confused, I stopped in my infuriating cussing long enough to recognize who exactly it was I was telling off. Yet, somehow, that made me want to cuss even more. "Francis?"

What was HE doing here?

"_Bonjour!_ I take it that you have come here to change your mind about my offer before, _non?" _he said, smirking in an irritating way.

Dumbfounded, all I could manage was, "What?"

He sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Remember, when you screamed that I was a low-life snail sucker and said you were not attracted to men yesterday? So now, I believe you are here to tell me you really are as desperate as you look and would like to take me up on my offer?"

Desperate. The word smacked me in the face, making it even more challenging to push back the tears. Why had he said that? Did I really look like that to him? Did I look like that to everyone else as well? Biting my lip, I couldn't even fend off his jokes. I just looked down, letting the hair fall and cover my eyes. "Yes. Yes, I'll take you up on the offer. On one condition; you must let me and Alfred live here with you."

When I glanced back up at him, gauging his expression, I found that he had shut his mouth for once and was staring at me, eyes wide.

In spite of myself, I couldn't help but continue. "I'll do anything you bloody want, whatever you ask, as long as you at least care for Alfred. Make sure he has enough of everything he needs. I can't… I can't pay you with money… so I'll just have to hope that I'll be enough for you. So, may we stay here or not?"  
>His expression had grown from cocky to soft as I'd spoken, his normal, flamboyant behavior completely gone as he opened his doors for me and my little brother. I picked Alfred up off the concrete and walked in, feeling excruciatingly uncomfortable as I saw that his home was very much as large as mine, only with a more exquisite feel. It was almost how I felt around him; yes, we were both quite attractive men, but even with me having more class, he received all the attention due to his in-your-face demeanor. So I was left to be covered in cobwebs.<p>

"You may put him in here," Francis said, breaking me out of my jealousy.

"O-oh. Thank you," I muttered, walking into the room he had pointed out and settling my little brother in the bed. With one more kiss for his cheek, I went back out to the living room to find that Francis was sprawled across the couch, waiting.

I could feel his eyes looking me up and down, undressing me, seeing things that I could never even have imagined up in my own head, no matter how hard I tried. Lightly, he patted the space in front of him, gesturing for me to go lay on the couch beside him. Stiffly I crossed my arms and hurriedly made my way over to one of the matching chairs instead.

"My, my. You are quite the resistant one! That's no way to treat your new boyfriend!" He laughed. "Now, tell me why it is you're here and maybe I won't have to charge you for sitting on my front porch."

I looked away, not making eye contact with him. "I was kicked out of my home for taking a child off the street." Wait, why had I just blurted the truth to the likes of him?

"And I'm assuming that would be… Alfred, you called him? Your "little brother." And you left your house just so you could keep him? _Interressant…"_

"Look, you damn Frenchie, I only plan on staying here until I can get on my bloody feet and get out. Stay out of mine and Alfred's business and I'll stay out of yours."

His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "You are quite rude to the person who just took you and that street rat in. Maybe you would rather live outside instead? You can live in the backyard with Monsieur Froofy the Poodle!"

"Are you calling me a dog?" I spat furiously. Even in circumstances such as these, I couldn't just sit there and take such insult!

"Who was the one that came crying to my front porch, begging me for a roof to live under? You even went so far as to say you would date me just to get in! That is definitely the behavior of a canine, _non_?"

I hated the way his eyes flashed when he spoke, the clever smile that found its way on his lips. He was completely snarky, a self-confident wanker who only cared about himself! He didn't want to date me because he liked me; he was making fun of me. He was just harassing me like he had since elementary school. Even in such a stressful, important situation, this was all a bloody joke to him. I was sure I'd be better off on the streets.

But no, I could never do that to Alfred. I would take this bastard's insults quietly. Gritting my teeth, I took a deep breath, looked over at the frog, and smiled. "I've always preferred dogs to cats anyhow."

He chuckled at that, before standing and saying, "Then you'll fit right in. Oh, my parents are gone on a trip to America for the week, so I'm afraid you'll have to leave all the cooking to _moi._ I hope you don't mind too much; I know your brother will not! He should be allowed to taste delicious food once in awhile! And, due to lack of open rooms, you will be sharing your bed with _moi _as well! Won't it be so much fun, my sexy little punk?"

I would definitely be better off with Mr. Froofy.

My thoughts couldn't have proven more correct when I was forced to curl up next to the person I hated the absolute most in the world… who was absolutely stark NAKED. I felt a bout of nausea rise up in me, making me feel more than a little uncomfortable. Never in my days had I been forced to sleep with a naked Frenchmen, especially not one who was most definitely going to attempt feeling me up under the covers.

"Y-You know, I was actually wondering… you l-live in a mansion, but you say you haven't enough rooms to put me in my own. What could possibly be in all of them?" Small talk, yes, but small talk was better than… well, whatever evil I knew he was concocting in his tiny brain.

"They are all my father's things! He's a collector of priceless French artifacts, you see, and does not want to throw anything away. So now, there is only my room, their room, and the one I put your Alfred in left!" he answered, carefully inching closer to me, until I could all but feel the shape of him in my back.

With all my strength, I pushed him backwards, my face flaming up. "Get OFF of me, you sniveling, foul, little croaking fool!"

"There is no need to be so nervous, Iggy!" he whispered, DARING to stroke my hair with his FILTHY hand.

"I said get the HELL OFF! And don't bloody CALL me that! My name is not Iggy, it is Arthur! So please, if you would kindly slide over to your side of this stupid bed and actually sleep, I would be more than a little grateful for it! As it is, I'm going to check on Alfred!" Quickly, I stood up and all but ran from the room, resisting the urge to punch his stupid flawless face.

Why should a man look so damn pretty? I had always been sure of my preference for women, up until that bastard had to go and question it! Maybe I was just confused because of where I was… nothing was going right and I was just… confused! Ugh, it wasn't important at the moment anyhow! I barreled into the room we'd left Alfred in after dinner, flushed and a little bit bothered by my previous thoughts.

No surprise, I found Alfred sitting there awake, eating something that most likely didn't belong in his mouth.

"Alfred… what are you eating?" I asked, a smile finding its way on my face, despite my unhappiness.

"Candy! I found it in that drawer!"

Well, I knew this had to be interesting. "Spit it out right now," I told him, holding out my hand. "Come on, I'll find you some better candy later!"

Reluctantly, he grimaced, before doing what I'd asked. "It was all yummy and gummy…" he mumbled, frowning.

"Yummy and gummy, you say…" Looking down at the chewed up mess, it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure out what this once had been. "How about we stop putting things in our mouths that don't appear to belong there, okay?" I said quickly, tossing the item into the nearest rubbish basket with an awkward laugh. "And scoot over; big brother doesn't really want to sleep with Francis."

"'Kay!" he said, flashing his thousand watt smile at me.

Scooting in next to him, I couldn't help but think about how he'd be in the future. With that smile and his beautiful personality, I knew all kinds of women were going to be all over him. He was quite handsome, for a young chap, and if he didn't get fat from eating so much, I was sure that would only increase with age. One day, if I was still caring for him, he was going to be taken away from me by some retched stranger with breasts… The thought was making me feel sick again. To calm myself, I pulled Alfred in my arms and hugged him close, watching his cute little cheeks puff up when I squeezed him. He giggled as I released him and hugged me back, snuggling happily into my arms.

"Artie, you're the best mommy ever!" he said, his heavy-lidded eyes closing sleepily.

"So now I've been upgraded to Mummy instead of big brother, eh? Whatever, as long as you never call Francis your father…" Taking one last look at him, I shut my eyes as well, falling asleep instantly.

I could tell it was extremely early in the morning when my eyes opened again. I had heard a car door slam, the front one open, footsteps on the floor… and then I'd heard two people, a man and woman, conversing in French, sounding slightly distressed about something. Listening closely, I was able to catch "Francis" and "frère", which was the word for brother. Did Francis have a brother? If so, he'd never mentioned it before. Regardless, this meant that his parents had come home early from their trip to America for some reason… and I was a random teenager in their house.

Trying hard not to breathe, I kept listening for more words that I could understand. Another name came into the conversation, but not one I was familiar with… "Matthew." Yet it sounded so… well, I was sure I'd heard it somewhere before, not too many days ago. Risking basically my whole life, I peeked out through a crack in the door.

I had been correct; there was a long-haired blond man, who looked very much like Francis in a suit and a woman with darker hair who was holding a tuckered out young child in her arms. Unable to understand what was being said, I decided to investigate the little boy. He was very small, couldn't have been more than six or seven, with wavy, wheat colored blond hair and a peculiar piece that shot out the front and curled around, very similar to the one Alfred had, only in different style. On his pale face, he wore tiny glasses around his closed, lash-laced eyes… My heart skipped a beat when he yawned and opened his eyes. They were a deep, beautiful, cerulean blue.

This boy looked just like Alfred!

Astonished, I looked back and forth between the two, comparing everything about them. Though it was clear the other boy was slightly younger, they had the same face, same eyes, same hair color… it was almost like they were fraternal twins. A flash of a memory shot up in my mind as I continued to watch them both, astonished.

_"My name is Alfred Jones and I'm from America, my birthday is July fourth, I'm eight years old, I have a younger brother named Matthew…"_

A younger brother named Matthew! Was it possible that this was… him?

_"Mattie went with Mom and I went with Dad 'cause that's what they wanted."_

They had lived in America. Francis's parents had gone to America on vacation. Suddenly, I found myself not wanting to watch anymore. If they had Matthew… if they had Matthew that meant that something had happened to Alfred's mother. We had to get out of here before he found out. Hurriedly, with nothing to pack up, I grabbed Alfred, who thankfully stayed asleep, and watched carefully for an opening to sprint out. Once we left, I would rent a room for the rest of the night. I had enough money for at least a roof to stay under for a bit; we could live off the free continental breakfast until I found work… if all else failed, there would always be my grandmother's. However, she was quite ill with Alzheimer's now and it just didn't seem fair to her to drag my problems to her home with me.

Though I was sure she would love Alfred. She was a sucker for a cute face.

Meanwhile, the parents didn't appear to be moving from the spot they were in, which was giving me less and less time before Alfred awoke and found his younger brother less than five feet away. Surely there was no way he could remain quiet after that. Growing impatient, I considered either running for my life or climbing out the window. Both options seemed rather…undignifying, but… just as I was about to decide, they placed their sleepy child down on the couch and walked into the living room, completely out of sight.

Yes! It was perfect! Well, almost. If they had taken Matthew with them it would have been, but I could deal with a sleepy seven-year-old just fine. Now was my chance… taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the living room and walked hurriedly to the front door. Right as I was opening it, ready to sprint, I looked down at Alfred to find his eyes open and wide, facing the spot where I knew Mattie was definitely staring back at him. Swallowing all my feelings of pity and desire to please Alfred, I walked out without another thought.

The second we were outside, he began to cry.

His tears were silent, with no hiccupping or sobbing. They just ran down his face as we walked away. It was almost as if he knew to be quiet as we slunk through the dark, smoggy city. I held him close, a guilty feeling starting to overtake me. Every time I looked into his eyes, I could tell what he felt; desperation, sadness, betrayal. I had left Matthew on the couch alone. All that was left of Alfred's true family had been sitting there, watching as I had walked away with his only brother.

For a second time, they had been forced to just stare in silence as their closest friend was taken away.

**Fagan is another original name, this time for Ireland! If you have any info about his real name, feel free to speak up :D **


	4. Bedtime Stories

**Hey, everyone :) Gosh, i haven't been on fanfiction in a LONG time...i guess i lied when i said i'd be writing more often. But here's the next chapter (finally), hope you like! Please review ;)**

"There we are. You see, Alfred? Nothing to worry about. I told you we'd be alright. A nice lady has offered me a job, so we'll be able to afford the stay here for a good while, until I can get us a real flat to live in. Meanwhile, we'll live here." I took a look around at the desolate old hotel room, trying not to think about what kind of atrocities may have occurred here as I tucked a sleepy Alfred into the dirty bed, cringing.

He gave me a bright smile, the awfulness of his day washed away by his optimism. "Yeah! Then we'll have our own house and do whatever we wanna with it!"

"That's right," I told him, trying to be as cheery about everything as he was. Then again, growing up made it difficult to act as happy and carefree as a young child.

"Arthur? Will you tell me a story before we go to bed? And not one of those stupid storybooks. I wanna hear one that you made up!"

I looked at Alfred's excited face in astonishment. Me, tell him a story? "Well…alright," I succumbed. "But you aren't allowed to laugh."

He nodded energetically and snuggled down to listen, quiet for once.

What was I going to say to him? I wasn't really in the mood for making something up…But then again, what choice did I have? I'd just ripped him from his brother, the least I could do was make him smile a little. Drawing a deep breath, I made my face as animated as possible and began.

"Once upon a time, deep in the depths of a wealthy London neighborhood, there lived a young boy named Artie. Now Artie was no ordinary boy, even past the vast amounts of money his family had. No, Artie had a very powerful, mystical talent that not a soul knew about beside him. You see, he could see things…creatures… that other people could not."

"Wow!" Alfred breathed, entranced. "Like what?"

"Oh, many things…fairies, elves, pixies, flying mint bunnies… all sorts of beings that were supposed to be just fables in the ordinary world. Except that he could see them, so he knew they were real! But when Artie tried to tell people about the wonderful creatures that had befriended him, they called him very mean things and told him that he was making everything up.

'"How can you tell me I've made this up when I've seen them all?" Artie cried to the people of London. "How can I be wrong when I'm their friend?"'

"But his pleading and begging and convincing did nothing…they still refused to believe him. Artie was quite unsure what to do…how could he prove they were there if he was the only one allowed to see them? Moreover, why was it so important to him to prove that they were real? Well, because he wanted to give the whole world the friendship his new friends had given him, he decided. So, one day, he woke up before dawn and snuck away from his house to go find his fabled friends, his mother's camera in hand. If he couldn't prove they were real by word, then he would take a photo and show them all!

"Except that when he got there, his friends were gone. Without even a trace, they had disappeared into oblivion, leaving Artie alone in the darkness. Dejected, he turned right back around and went back to his wealthy community…but the gates were shut tight, locking him out from his whole family and all his human friends. He screamed desperately into the cold early morning air until he could scream no more, and nobody came for him. It was then that Artie realized that he was truly alone in the world…he had been shunned, exiled for being different."

"B-But Artie ended up back in his home with his mommy and daddy…right?" a sleepy Alfred asked, wiping at his eyes.

I gave him a sad smile and shook my head. "No…Artie was never welcomed back in his old home. Knowing he was never going to be accepted again, he set off on a long journey , searching for a new home for himself, but every where he turned, it seemed that somebody else was giving him a dirty look. He had no friends…no family…he had to scrounge through the trash for his meals. Things seemed quite hopeless for Artie, who had wanted nothing but to bring the world friendship. That is, until he saw the light at the end of his tunnel of desperation.

"Digging through the rubbish bin, Artie was barely alive when he heard the voices…it was his friends! Quickly, he abandoned his feeble dinner and followed the sounds of their laughter until he finally tracked them into a hidden back alley. And there, he couldn't believe what he saw. They were all there, every one of them, and looking up at them, talking to them as if he could see them was a very small boy. Was it possible? Could someone else see the creatures too? Artie, confidence renewed, walked up to them and the small boy, smiling brightly.

"The little one introduced himself as Al. Artie could feel warmth growing inside him, the stifling warmth of joy. He wasn't alone anymore! He'd found someone who would always believe in him, who would relate to him! In that moment, Artie learned he should never give up hope…after all, he'd made another new friend, and, despite a rather large age difference, he felt that he owed it to the small boy to care for him…he felt drawn to him. So together, Al and Artie made a brilliant life. And they became very successful, as well. Then everybody who was ever rotten to them felt very sorry that they had abused the chance they had to befriend those two fantastic street rat boys. The end."

For a long moment, Alfred said nothing, just blinked up at me with tired eyes. Then, a smile stretching across his lips, he closed his eyes and whispered, "Thank you, Artie. I can see them, too…"

Within seconds, he was snoring obnoxiously.

I sighed, standing up and stretching my stiffening muscles, thinking of all that had happened over the past couple of days. In a way, that story had been both true and unrealistic at the same time. Yes, I had used our real names and some of the circumstances were quite similar to the real world, such as me being shut off from my family and finding Alfred in the street. In fact, it was me finding him in the street that had removed me from my home. But it was also true in the fact that I felt happy around Alfred, that I felt he was the same as me. It was very peculiar, really. I was glad I'd found him, been given the chance to take care of him like his big brother. I just hoped that I would start doing a better job of it.

Giving him one last look to make sure he was safe and sound, I crawled into the bed next to him and fell asleep, trying hard not to think about what was to come for us tomorrow.

The next day, I was put to the disgusting task of mucking out horse stalls. Clearly, my school career was over if I wanted to have money to spare to care for Alfred and at my age and education, there was no such thing as a well-paying occupation. So here I was, standing ankle-deep in filth just to make a living… But I wouldn't complain. No, I had to keep going. I had placed Alfred in a good elementary school early this morning, so at least he was getting smarter…one day, maybe he would even be able to support himself alone.

"Come on, kid, faster! We don't got all day for you to clean up!"

I shoveled faster, trying to block out the furious screams of the woman who had employed me. Clearly, I wasn't meeting her expectations, as every waking minute she seemed to be yelling at me and taking vicious hits at my self-esteem. However bad this seemed though, I knew my only other alternative way of making money had been to whore myself out, and though that would have gotten me way more money…I just couldn't make myself do that. Plus who would want me, anyhow? Thirteen was just too young an age.

When Alfred came home, I was still out in the backyard caring for the horses. I had bathed them all at least a dozen times and yet Mrs. Hatchet had claimed there was still dirt on them, so I had been working overtime trying to finish and get back to my hotel so I could play with Alfred, but I still hadn't been able to please her. At this rate I was sure I'd be here all night…Just when I was starting another round of scrubbing, I heard the doors open.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but these horses are quite clean enough," I grumbled, completely exhausted from my duties.

"Oh, Mrs. Hatchet sent me to tell you to go home now," muttered the voice of another teenager.

Surprised, I looked up to see not my demented employer from Hell come to tell me there was a speck of mud on her precious ponies, but a familiar face, one I recognized from school. "Antonio? What in bloody hell are you doing here?"

This time he seemed to really see me, who I was, instead of just glancing in and delivering the message. "Arthur?" He gave me a bright, cheerful smile, one I'd never seen him give me in school, before coming over and sitting down next to where I was. "No, _senor, _a better question is what are YOU doing here? I thought you lived in a big house with your family?"

Unwilling to let on to my true situation, I just growled, "It's none of your concern."

Despite my irritation, his eyes remained gentle and his smile…well, remained intact. "Well, maybe not. But just to make you feel better about this, I'll explain something. Mrs. Hatchet runs a home for orphaned street children who have nowhere else to go. She puts them to work for her and pays them so they can see how life really works on the outside. You aren't the only one down on your luck! There are at least five others here who are living under her guidance. I'm here because my parents live back in Spain and sent me to live with my uncle. But after a month he was hospitalized and I had to find a place to stay on my own."

I looked up at him out of the corner of my eye. This was a new side of a person I had always just assumed was Francis's brainless follower…he was actually quite nice. "How do you manage to go to school? She has me working on her bloody horses all day for money…"

"Oh, I work on the weekends! It pays less, but I only have me to take care of. For you though, that's not the case, is it?"

Sighing, I placed the scrub brush back on the shelf and wiped my hands off. "No. It isn't. I have my little brother to care for. Speaking of which, I would rather like to get back to him now…he's only eight, and he's been alone for quite some time."

As I walked away, I could feel Antonio's eyes on me. Just before I left the stable, he said, his voice rather silky, "You can't dropout of middle school, _amigo_. I'll talk to Mrs. Hatchet for you and make sure she lets you go to school."

I froze, before giving him a curt nod of thanks and going back to my room, feeling slightly flustered. Why was he helping me? Why had Francis helped me? Why was any of this happening? Everyone who I'd been sure would torture me hadn't…instead they'd given me aid in this terrible journey. Was it because of Alfred? It had to be. No one cared about a homeless thirteen-year-old, but when a small child was involved…everything changed. It was much more touching to the heart when a younger boy was starving to death.

Completely wiped, I narrowly missed crushing Alfred where he lay on the bed, instead causing him to bounce lightly into the air. He giggled and curled up next to me, giving me a great big hug. I grinned, brushing his soft hair with my hand and asking, "So how was your first day at school?"

"It was so cool! We played all kinds of fun things and learned numbers and stuff! All the kids were nice, too!" he gushed, trembling from excitement as he launched into a story about somebody he met and how great she was and how much he wanted to see her again.

"That's great, Alfred," I told him when he was done. "I'm glad you're making friends."

"Heehee, yeah, I'm making lots of friends! Lots and lots and lots! I'm gonna be the most popular kid in school and everyone will like me! I can't wait til I'm older!"

Taking a deep breath, I looked him right in his energetic blue eyes, and asked jokingly, "Are you telling me one day you're going to be everyone's hero, Alfred?"

He gasped in excitement and almost broke my ear drums screaming, "YEAH! I'M THE HEROOOO!"

The next few weeks passed in a blur of confusing, ever-changing circumstances. Antonio hadn't been lying to me when he'd promised he'd make sure I was able to go to school. Within two days, Mrs. Hatchet had me going to school during the day and working at night while Toni and some other boys watched Alfred. Meanwhile, Alfred seemed to be doing well in his own classes, particularly in the friendship area and grew taller by the day, even asking Mrs. Hatchet for a job of his own by the end of the year. She happily employed him, always making sure he was healthy and safe, and life became rather great for the street children she housed.

I made more friends at the hotel, different friends, who were going through troubles even worse than mine. Altogether, there were around seven of us living here, and each person's story of how they ended up here was unique, and sometimes quite saddening. It made my runaway story seem pathetic in comparison when I heard of the injuries suffered, the deaths endured, the absolute feelings of loneliness that some of them were put through. It made me grateful that I had never been alone.

"You're parents were murdered?" I asked one of the other inhabitants, Vash, one night while we were feeding the horses.

"You learn to live with it. Unless of course you're weak and spineless enough to take the easy way out," he explained in his harsh, way of speaking. "Life isn't going to be simple."

Another night, I was paired with the other three, a quiet Japanese boy named Kiku, who's house had burned down in a fire, an eccentric Finnish boy who'd come to London in search of his mother, only to be abandoned by her, and a large, rather frightening boy from Sweden, who had seen way too much death in his life to be sane anymore. The only one who seemed to have something to say about anything was Tino, the boy from Finland, so I asked him about being abandoned.

"So you found your mother, but then she left you? That's terrible…" I said, though mostly just to break the awkward silence closing in on the group.

"Yup, I travelled all the way from Finland because I knew my mother had set up a home here and I missed her really bad! So my dad gave me some money to get here and I did and I found her, but then…well, she acted very happy to see me at first! When I woke up the next morning, though, the house was empty. I waited a few days…but she never came back. And I had no money, so I came here to raise money to go back home!" The whole while he'd been talking, the smile had stayed plastered on his face. "I guess life can't be perfect!"

Picking some hay off the ground and feeding it to a nearby horse, I murmured, "You're definitely right about that."

A few more months passed, and with it came more and more change. Alfred celebrated his ninth birthday with the rest of our friends, getting a nice, big cake for the first time in a long time. He seemed to mature every day, his childhood innocence fading just a little bit over time, though he still held on to his rather…spastic nature. It even started to seem like running away had been the better alternative.

That is, until Mrs. Hatchet fell seriously ill with cancer.

I knew the moment she gathered us all together that something had gone terribly wrong. Her face was sallow, pale, her eyes sunken in an obvious despair. The air was heavy…even Alfred was uncharacteristically quiet. When she delivered the news, we were all unsure how to react. Of course none of us really could. This hotel had been our home, most of our last chances to get our lives back. I looked at the other boys, who had all escaped orphanages, escaped being alone here and felt sick. What would become of them all now?

Another short year later, my question was answered. After Mrs. Hatchet's passing, none of us quite knew what to do with ourselves. It was clear a group of teenagers and a ten-year-old couldn't care for a whole property by themselves, though we had been left the land and each been given a selfless sum of money in Mrs. Hatchet's will. We tried to keep the place going, but it had lost the heart it had once had. It was Vash who finally suggested what we had all been thinking.

"We should sell the place and use the money to find other places to go!"

None of us could find any plausible way to disagree. So we sold the property to a nice, young couple, split the money between the seven of us, and, with heavy hearts, we said goodbye to one another and headed back into the lonely depths of the city of London.

Suddenly losing my only source of income had greatly altered my life plans. At fifteen, there were more possibilities for a job, and I could even make them work around my school schedule, but with no place to live and just enough money for a few months of renting a flat, I wasn't really sure where I should go next. Would a landlord even let a teenager rent a flat? This was something I hadn't considered… And suddenly, the solution hit me. I hated his bloody guts, as he did mine, but he had to be done with Uni now and living in his own home. It was better than my poor grandmummy or going back home and pleading forgiveness from my Mum, at least.

Barclay.


	5. Cheater

**Okay, i'll warn you guys now, this gets a little confusing near the end...even Arthur was confused, but don't worry! If you have any questions about what happened just send them to me and i'll try my best to answer them! Thanks for your support through this terrible chapter... sorry for writing when i'm exhausted ;)**

The building he was living in left much to be desired, in my opinion. We had never been raised in such squalor, yet here he was, in this filthy old place, once again doing the best he could to infuriate our parents. I rolled my eyes, wishing there were some other way as I entered the place, nervously holding Alfred's hand to comfort him, though he didn't seem quite as disgusted as me. In fact, he seemed unaffected by the whole thing, even a little excited that he would get to meet the eldest Kirkland, as the rest of us had been so nice to him.

However, he completely misunderstood. Barclay wasn't very much like the rest of us. He had always had an opposing sort of nature, rebellious even before his teenage years. As a rule-breaker, he was constantly in trouble, doing all sorts of things that I wouldn't ever even THINK of, sometimes illegal things, sometimes just things that got on people's nerves. He was sociopathic by nature, and I had hated him from the beginning.

Suddenly being shoved at his mercy wasn't really my idea of fun, but at this point, what choice did I have? I'd done everything I could.

The man at the desk seemed just as scummy as the rest of this place and I was hesitant to be forced to consult him, but after taking another look at Alfred, I was once again struck with the realization that if I didn't do this, we'd be homeless again.

I cleared my throat. "Um, excuse me, sir?"

He looked up threateningly from the newspaper he was reading. His eyes were black and soulless, the whites flaming red with whatever sort of drug he was on. He said nothing, but the look on his face was hard and frightening, so I just spat it out as quickly as possible.

"Could you please direct me to the room where Barclay Kirkland is staying?" I'd gotten the information that he was here from some lowlifes I'd recognized as his friends earlier, but they'd failed to give me his room number.

I watched, shivering inwardly, as those creepy eyes scanned a list of his tenants before finding their way back to my face. "313," he grumbled, his voice a deep bass.

I gave him a nod. "Thank you."

Never releasing Alfred's hand (though he was nearly as tall as me now and it looked a little…strange) we headed to the stairs, since the elevator was proclaimed "out of order." I tried not to think about what that meant or what we were stepping in as we headed up, reaching the third floor quickly. Alfred broke away from me, sprinting down the hall to 313 excitedly and knocking on the door, much to my dismay.

Nervously, I watched from afar as the door opened and a shock of flaming red hair appeared. Well, at least he was home.

"Who're you?" he asked, his loud voice echoing up and down the halls.

"He belongs to me," I found myself saying as I finally reached the door.

There, on Barclay's face, was the smirk I had grown so accustomed to seeing right before he shoved my face into my dinner, before he put an elbow in my stomach, before he put a foot to my bullocks. He always wore that look before he tortured me in some fashion. Trying to be strong, I stood in front of Alfred protectively.

"He belongs ta you?" I could hear the cruel humor in the way he said it. "Finally found yourself a boyfriend?"

I felt my face flush furiously. "No! Alfred's not my boyfriend! He's…my brother."

At this, he raised his bushy red brows up, yet the sinister grin remained. "Your brother, you say? Mum didn't tell me she had another kid. Just can't keep her legs closed, can she?"

"You wanker, Mum didn't give birth to Alfred! I found him starving on the streets a couple years ago and-"

"And you took 'im in? Made 'im your little brother? So that's why Mum kicked you out on your ass! Couldn't support another mouth that you decided you just had to have! Maybe if you hadn't been such a brat, Dad wouldn't have put that gun to his head."

I froze, my retort sticking in my mouth. "Wh-what?"

His emerald eyes twinkled intuitively. "You didn't hear? Dad blasted his brains out a few months back. Poor Mum couldn't take the pressure, went insane for a little while. She made me take care of all of her stupid kids until she was better, because you decided to run off with your little prince charming instead of being there for her."

I felt sick, suddenly; sick of everything that had happened in the last few years of my life. If I had never found Alfred on the street, Dad would still be alive. Mum would still be in her right mind. And my brothers…well, they would still have their father. But, in one foolish decision, I had taken that all from them. Peter would grow up fatherless because of me.

Barclay, who seemed to be pleased by the look on my face, laughed, "Was it worth it, then? Saving that little brat?"

I looked over at Alfred, who seemed just as stricken as I felt. Was it worth it, saving his life in exchange for my father's? Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to blame him. His face was just too innocent, too devoid of any hatred or disgust. He was just a child. And it wasn't his fault, really; it was mine and mine alone. Picking him off the street had been the greatest mistake I'd ever made.

"Yes," I told him seriously, taking Alfred's hand back in mine, "It was worth it. Maybe it made me homeless for a bit, maybe it made life a bit more difficult, maybe it even took my father away. But for the first time in years, I actually enjoyed my own life. I felt good about myself, instead of like a snobby rich kid who watched while other people suffered."

He scoffed at me, but opened the door a little wider. "You're such a queer."

Ignoring his preposterous statement, I went inside with Alfred trailing behind me. The whole room was surprisingly spotless and well-furnished with a very high-quality sense of fashion, unlike the rest of the building. It was obvious that Barclay could never completely erase his bloodline, despite his efforts. Even I had to admit, he was quite the interior designer, though his outward appearance suggested otherwise.

With his wild red hair, bright green eyes, and studded ears, he seemed more of a biker than anything else. Add the fact that the second he sat down there was a cigarette in his mouth and you had a man fit for nothing short of a gang. However, there would always be that sense of superiority we Kirkland's held in everything that he did.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, lighting up.

I gagged at the horrendous smell. "Well, first of all, you can stop smoking inside the house. Second-hand smoke will not be the death of me, nor Alfred. Secondly… Well, as you've already stated, Mum kicked me out of the house after she found out about him, so I was wondering f it may be possible to stay with you for a little while…"

Curiously, he peered up at me over the pornographic magazine he had picked up off the coffee table. "Are you serious? No way in hell are you ever going ta live here. I can't bring women home when I have my little brother and his underage fuckbuddy cozying up together on the couch! Plus, I've only got two rooms, and I use one to hold me and the other to hold my stuff. There's no place for you."

I stared at him in disbelief. He wasn't going to let us in just because he wanted to have sex with a bunch of whores? "Barclay, you're all we have left! I know you hate me, and you can be bloody sure I hate you too, but this isn't about ME. This is about Alfred. If you don't take me, at least take him in. I'll find somewhere else to go."

"You're willing ta give up that much for some kid you found on the street?" He laughed obnoxiously, turning to Alfred. "Looks like Artie's falling for you, kid. Hope you enjoy high-maintenance men."

Alfred blinked a couple of times, before smiling brightly. "Yeah, I do! Just like your boyfriend!"

Barclay's expression darkened and he turned back to me, looking positively demented. "I can see why Mum hates 'im. I don't have room in my house for a bunch of snot-nosed brats, so you can just take your sob story and spring it on someone else. Maybe they'll be stupid enough to fall for it."

"What?" I was sure I'd convinced him… until Alfred had opened his bloody mouth and ruined it all. "Barclay! This isn't some silly story! This is practically life and death for him! I never realized you were so sensitive that a ten-year-old's pointless jokes would bother you." I smirked, trying to get on his more competitive side. "Or are you weaker than I thought you were?"

It worked like a charm. Maybe he wasn't stupid, but he was very gullible, especially when it came to proving me wrong.

"Alright. Stay here. But if you get in my way or even look at me funny, you're out," he grumbled, clearly irked by the situation. "And I'm smoking in the house."

As if to prove his point, he snuffed out his first cigarette and took another from the package, lighting it up and looking at me threateningly, daringly. His eyes were alive with rage; the irises were dark, hard emeralds in the low light. I wondered absently if I was looking at him in the same way. Of course I was grateful he even agreed to let us stay, but the smoking was going to take some getting used to.

"What does this thing do?" Alfred asked, ripping us both out of our staredown.

Barclay snickered, sitting up and taking the thing from the smaller boy's hands. "You're too young ta know."

I peered at the object carefully, for some strange reason unable to define what it was myself…it didn't appear to be any kind of disgusting toy. "What is it?" I asked, unable to control my mouth.

Smiling manically, he placed it on the mantel and told me, clearly amused, "You're too young ta know."

Feeling it better to forget this whole thing had happened, I stood and made my way over to the bedrooms. Opening one door, it was clear that Barclay slept there. It was absolute chaos; clothes strewn about, unmade bed, books everywhere they could possibly be. The other room was much more sensible, with a computer sitting on a mahogany desk in the corner, and a stack of junk protruding from the closet. I noted the lack of bed dismally, wondering if he planned to throw me and Alfred on a blanket like we were dogs, and headed back out to investigate the kitchen.

It was well-stocked, with surprisingly healthy foods lining the shelves neatly. No issue for our meals, then. Satisfied, I went back into the living area, astonished to find Barclay had taken out an old r/c helicopter and was flying it around the room while Alfred tried futilely to knock it down.

"What ARE you doing?" I had to admit, it was rather amusing the way Alfred seemed so into this.

My brother laughed, sending chills up my spine with his tone. "I asked 'im what he likes the most. He said he likes cheeseburgers. I promised I'd buy him all the cheeseburgers he could eat if he caught my copter."

I opened my mouth to scold him for torturing Alfred and instantly regretted it as Barclay drove the helicopter straight in. Before I could even react, however, Alfred, who didn't seem to be paying attention to anything but the aircraft over his head, came crashing into me, hell bent on his all-he-could-eat cheeseburger deal.

"I GOT IT!" he yelled as his hands closed around the device and yanked it out of my mouth. Frantically, he ran over to Barclay. "Look, look, I got it! I'll go put my shoes on!"

With a fabricated easy-going grin, the Scotsman said, his voice calm, "I don't have any money. Maybe you should ask Artie for your cheeseburger buffet." And, with a stretch, he stood and left, locking himself up in his room.

Alfred, who had been so excited just minutes before, sobered, his eyes a melancholy blue color as he turned to me.

He didn't have to say a word for me to realize what he wanted. Sighing, I kneeled down and made him look at me. "No, Alfred…not yet. Maybe someday when we have our own place and no stupid brothers to harass us, but not today. Besides, hamburgers will give you high blood pressure."

The next day, after sleeping on a lumpy futon Barclay had pulled out of the closet for us, I took Alfred to school for the very first time. I had always been too busy working to actually walk him to his classes, and though it caused me to be slightly late for mine, it had been worth it. He was happy there. At school, there was nothing for him to worry about but his friends and his grades. With me, he was forced to grow up too quickly and worry about more practical things, like his next meal.

Two years later, life suddenly changed its monotonous course.

When Alfred met me on the corner from school, he was crying.

There was a small smile on his face, yet the tears were still there. He told me he had a surprise for me. I waited, just like he asked me to, wondering what in the world could possibly cause him to make such a face, when he walked back over holding hands with another boy, one with long, wavy blond hair and blue eyes just like Alfred's.

"Artie!" Alfred said, his whole face glowing with a newfound happiness. "Do you remember him?"

And suddenly, I was being smacked in the face by my past regrets. I was staring directly into the face of a certain little boy that I had once left behind.

"Matthew…" I breathed, watching as the shy child turned a rosy pink at the sound of his name. "How on earth did you find him, Alfred?"

"He goes to my school! He said at first he was private-schooled but he didn't like that, so they eventually put him in my class! He also said that Mom brought him to England 'cause she has a boyfriend here!"

That was their mother that I'd seen at Francis's house? If that was true, then that meant either one of two things: one, Francis's actual mother had died and his father had a girlfriend or two, their mum had cheated on their American father and they were Francis's half-brothers.

Shocked, I looked at the brothers. They were very similar in appearance, with their wheat blond hair and bright, azure eyes, yet so different in personality. Matthew was obviously very shy, with the way he hid behind his brother as he was introduced…Staring hard, I could see a strange resemblance between him and Francis. On the other hand, Alfred was nothing like Francis, except for possibly in the energy factor.

"Are you telling me that woman from four years ago was you two's mother all along?"

Matthew, who hadn't said a word, spoke up at this, his voice as timid and quiet as a deer. "Mom came here from America for her boyfriend…they aren't married, but he does have an older son named Francis who kind of looks like Mom…"

Angry and unable to comprehend any of this, I conked Alfred furiously on his small head. "You bloody idiot! If that was your mother all along, why didn't you say so? You could have gone with her and Matthew!"

He rubbed his head and looked up at me, his eyes large. "But Artie,I didn't know Mom was there…I thought maybe something had happened to her when I saw Mattie alone on the couch."

I looked at him like he was the stupidest child alive. "Alfred F. Jones," I hissed, rubbing my temples, "You are going to take Matthew home. I, however, will be escorting you and don't be surprised when I stop in to say hello to your Mum. Is that clear?"

"Um…" Mattie interjected again. "Our mom is under the impression that Alfred is dead …the police told her he had disappeared along with our dad…"

My head throbbing from the sudden surplus of information I had been given, I held a hand up to stop them both. What I knew was that Matthew's mother was dating Francis's dad and that we had been hiding in the house just inches away from Alfred's only key to his old life. But Francis had said his parents were gone on a trip to America…so maybe he had called them his parents by mistake? Or could it be true that the younger boy's mother had cheated on their father, which had led to the divorce that had separated them once and for all?

The moment I thought it, I knew it was true. Those were Francis's parents. Their mother had been living two different lives, in England and America. Her American husband had found out about her cheating but the French boyfriend hadn't. That is, until the mum was forced to tell her boyfriend about her American life after her husband lost his mind and ran off with Alfred. She'd had to tell Francis's father using Mattie, an innocent child.

As confusing as the whole situation had been, it now made a little bit more sense. Mattie and Alfred weren't aware they had an elder brother.

Determined to forget I had figured any of this horrifying information out, I said, "Okay. Alfred, come with me, we're going home. Mattie, do you think you can get to your house from here on your own?"

By the time he'd moved his head to nod, I had yanked Alfred across the street, much to his protests.

"Artie, dude, what're you doing?" he asked as we made our way down the street.

Too upset to chastise him on his use of what he called "lingo", I didn't say a word to him until we were inside Barclay's flat with the door shut. "Don't call me dude. Listen, I'm going to tell you something and I know there is almost no way you're going to follow what I say, but Alfred…I don't want you to hang out with Matthew anymore."

He opened his mouth to protest, but I shut him up with a quick gesture. "I know Matthew's your brother. But he's a part of the life you would have lived, not the one you did live. Your mother thinks you're dead…how can you hang out with the son of somebody who believes you're dead? Because of the way things happened, you can't go back to him. So please…please listen to me and don't be friends with him."

"Alright…I don't get it, but you seem all upset, so I won't," he promised.

And, though I had been sure he would cross me, I never saw or heard about Matthew from Alfred again. A few months later, he had appeared to have forgotten the boy existed altogether, and that was the end of that.

Knowing things were going too well once again, I woke up on my eighteenth birthday sure something terrible was going to happen. Maybe it was the feel of Alfred's foot digging in my stomach or possibly the way my head was ringing in pain, but I was positive something was coming. Five minutes later, as i was bruhsing my teeth, the terrible thing came.

"Happy birthday, little brother," Barclay sneered, dumping ice water over my head. "Time for you ta get the hell outta my house!"


	6. Bomber Jacket

**Hey, everyone! Sorry it took a couple days to get this one up, but here it is ;)Happy reading and thanks for your support!**

How had it all ended up like this? Why had I let this get so far? Why hadn't I just let Alfred go with his Mum before? These questions, among the others buzzing round in my head, hit me the hardest. They kept me up at night, causing all kinds of distress as I mulled them over. Why was it that, despite the fact I had used the money from Mrs. Hatchet to buy a flat for the two of us, I still wasn't sure I had done the right thing?

Had I really made the decision to take him from his family out of my own selfishness?

* * *

><p>"Hey, Arthur! See you later, I'm gonna go hang out with my friends!"<p>

Before I could say a word, Alfred had run out the door, hauling a gym bag full of who-knew-what. I sighed, pulling my book closer to my face in the dim light the lamp on the side table cast, trying not to think about what sort of trouble he could be getting into, trying to ease the increasing feeling that I was being ignored by him. He'd been doing this since the day he entered middle school, disappearing with his so called "friends" and not returning home until late at night. It concerned me, yes, but…I wasn't really his Mum, now was I? It wasn't as if I could ground him.

Any time his buddies weren't around, he'd just brood in his room all day, only coming out to eat the meals I prepared for him. Even then, our conversations consisted of him barely answering any of the questions I asked and very awkward silences. He was nothing like the boy I'd found on the street nearly six years ago. He was still quite exuberant when excited, yet there was a sort of coldness in his azure eyes every time he looked at me. As if I had done something to deserve his scorn. It hurt to watch him growing away from me like this…

"Alright then, Arthur! You're going to stop worrying yourself to death over that foolish child and you're going to make yourself some tea to relax. Yes, that's what you need…some tea to calm your nerves!" I said, muttering to myself as I placed a bookmark in my book and made my way to the kitchen.

Quickly, I made myself some Earl Grey, deciding to use my favorite cup to cheer me up. When I was settled again in my seat on the couch, I re-opened the book, sipped my tea, and tried to put Alfred as far back in my mind as I possibly could as I focused on the story. However, within seconds, I was back to stressing over his safety, nearly pulling my hair out in distress as I stared out the window into the endlessly grey sky above.

Again, I exhaled heavily and watched the people down on the street below, secretly hoping to see Alfred's bright, smiling face among the throngs. He was all I could think about nowadays, what with the tension that seemed to be growing between us ever since he'd found out the real reason behind saying goodbye to Matthew. I'd made a mistake…that much was obvious. But there was something that still kept him here with me, whether he realized it or not. It wasn't too late for him to run away from me to his real home. Still, he had never even tried to leave.

I was growing increasingly anxious, looking out the window like this, desperately trying to catch just a small glimpse of Alfred roaming the streets. It was completely unlike me to be so worried. He could take care of himself out there…With nothing else to do and my mind completely unfocused, I grabbed my sweater off the back of the door, heading out into the streets, maybe to go peruse a book store or whatnot.

The day turned out to be, as usual, quite soggy, though maybe a little chillier than usual. Clutching my satchel to my side, I pushed my way into the large crowd walking the streets and went on my way, trying to ignore how my brain seemed to think every blond-haired, blue-eyed boy out here was Alfred and focus instead on the names of the shops around, what they sold in said places. As I was walking past a clothing store where they sold jackets, a certain brown leather piece caught my eye, a bomber jacket that appeared to be from long ago, possibly from the World War II era. I immediately had no trouble picturing Alfred, a few years older, wearing it, not to mention the ridiculous hat that sat next to it.

Fighting against my wit, I meandered into the unfamiliar store, slightly discomforted by all the antique clothing items that lined the walls. The place seemed all but deserted though, so I hurriedly made my way over to the jacket and looked at the price tag. I nearly collapsed. There was no way…a jacket could be so bloody valuable! Angrily, I strutted up to the counter and hit the bell, my arms crossed over my chest. So this person thought they could rip me off, did they? Certainly not. And I was getting Alfred that jacket, whether I went hungry for a week or not!

Just as I was getting frustrated enough to press the bell again, an elderly man made his way out from the back, pulling himself along with a walker. His eyes were a bright, light blue color, his face wizened with the stresses he'd suffered in his life. Immediately, I lost all my will to be infuriated, even feeling a bit guilty for my fit of rage.

"May I help you?" asked the geezer, his voice rough and shaky.

"Um…" I muttered, unsure what to say. "Yes, I've noticed that bomber jacket in the window…and I was wondering if it was possible to lower the price just a bit?"

He blinked at me steadily before giving me the creepiest toothless smile I had ever encountered in all my days. "The bomber jacket, you say? Well, I'm very sorry, miss, but that jacket is not for sale. You see, I have a whippersnapper working in my shop that's had his eye on it for years, but he could never afford to pay for it! So I hired him to work in the back…hold on a minute, I'll go get him, I think he'd rather like you, Ma'am…" He disappeared into the back, leaving me both stunned and insulted.

When he came back, he was speaking to someone in a very low tone, chuckling airily. "See here, son, I think I've found you a lady friend!"

As they emerged from the back room, I couldn't believe my eyes. "ALFRED?" I gasped, watching as he came out with the elderly man, massive smile on his face. "What are you…?"

Stunned by the sound of my voice, he froze. "Arthur?"

For a moment, neither of us could speak. Was…was Alfred WORKING here? With this old man? Because he was saving up money to buy that jacket that I had wanted to buy for him? It was impossible! Fourteen-year-old weren't allowed to work without parental consent! Although, looking at the owner, I could see how Alfred would have easily tricked him.

"What are you doing here?" I repeated. "Is this what you've been doing every time you've said you were hanging out with your friends?"

He looked down sheepishly at his sneakers, away from what he probably assumed was my anger. "Well…it wasn't at first. I actually was hanging out with some dudes from school before. But then, we were walking down the street once and I saw this place! I figured it had to be pretty sweet, since it had that jacket in the window, so I came in and it was so cool! There was all kinds of old stuff and Mr. Walton was a really nice guy, and then, when he saw me checking out the bomber jacket, he asked if I wanted to work here so I said yes and…well, I just didn't tell you cause I thought you'd be mad…"

I put my fingers to my temples, trying to keep the smile off my face. How could I ever have assumed that somebody as childish as Alfred was getting into all kinds of trouble? "Oh, Alfred…" I muttered. "Why ever would I be mad? This shows you have some responsibility, although I do wish you'd told me about it…I can't believe I'm about to say this to you, but…" I looked up at him, letting my lips stretch into a small grin. "I'm quite proud of you."

In return, his smile grew larger and before I knew it, he'd put his arms around me and pulled me into a tight embrace. Maybe it was the shock of the embrace, or the fact that I'd missed human contact all these years, but my face flushed a minuscule pink and I hugged him back. I hadn't really noticed it until now, but Alfred had nearly outgrown me over the last couple years…his body was even starting to grow a little more muscular. It was quite weird for me to have forgotten that one day, Alfred was going to be a man.

"Love at first sight, eh?" the old man chuckled. "Or did you know this lovely lady before?"

This time, it was Alfred that reddened. "Uh, dude, this is no lady. This is my…brother…Arthur! Yeah, he's been like a big brother to me ever since he found me on the streets when I was eight! He's, like, kind of a hero!"

A…hero? His word choice made me grin wider as I remembered what he'd said to me the very first time we'd met.

"_Brother, one day I'm going to save you from the big, evil dragons that made you cry, okay? One day, I'll be your hero!"_

The old man, Mr. Walden, smiled, his chapped lips turning up. "A hero, you say? Many years ago, I was somebody's hero, too, back in World War II. A lady nearly as beautiful as Arthur there had been captured by the Germans…in fact, many had. We were sent in to save them and that was how I met my wife, Scarlet."

"Yeah!" Alfred spouted energetically. "He totally swooped in and saved the day with his friends! He's an American soldier, dude, that jacket was HIS!"

Stunned, I listened to the man a little closer. It was true; he had an American manner of speaking, despite his age. I suddenly felt even more terrible for asking him to lower the price of such an incredible memory of his…it was obvious by the scars he wore that he'd had a rough life. Setting my shoulders, I decided that no matter what it took, I was going to get Alfred that jacket. And he could use the money he'd been given to go to college and get the education that I had missed out on.

"That's quite amazing," I told Mr. Walton truthfully. "I didn't realize how much that jacket meant to you…are you sure you want to sell it?"

He chuckled. "Of course. I've been looking for a worthy person to give it to. In fact, I've been looking for someone to run my shop after I'm gone. It sounds a little Willy Wonka, but it's the truth. And, after several years of searching, I think I've found the right man for the job. Now I can rest in peace when I'm gone!" He dropped me a wink, before shuffling over to re-fold a pair of ancient pants.

Noting that Alfred had gotten bored and walked off to straighten up some merchandise, I decided now would be a great time to bring up something with the old man, something that had been bothering me since I'd seen Alfred here. Quietly, I went over to him and cleared my throat. "Excuse me, sir, but may I ask you something?"

He said nothing, just turned his nearly blind eyes on me.

"Um…is it possible that you would let me buy the jacket anyway? You see, it's nearly Christmas, and I was hoping to get that as a present for Alfred…later, of course, when he's not around to see me get it. Would that…be okay? I mean, he could use the money he earned here for something so much more productive, like college! And…I just…I guess I just really want to make him smile."

Mr. Walton's smile grew wider. "That would be just fine. But in exchange, you have to send him to work after the holidays wearing it, so I can see how strapping he looks in it! He's quite the gentleman…you've done good by him."

Hearing those words was about the best thing he could have said. "Thank you, sir. I've really tried my best."

"You're a great brother," he added, going back to folding clothes.

Just as I had promised, I came back a week later, leaving Alfred at home as I went to buy the jacket that I couldn't afford.

When I walked in the store, the first thing I noticed was the colorful package sitting on the counter. It was brightly colored, in a way a child would enjoy, with a little bow sitting at the top. Curiously, I also noted the bomber jacket was no longer sitting in the window on display.

"I took the liberty of wrapping it for you."

Surprised, I turned to see Mr. Walton coming out from the back. "Thank you," I told him. "That was quite nice. I have the check here for you."

Gently, his eyes glowed and he hobbled until he was staring me in the face. "No…I want you to have it. You need that money more than I do…and besides, this place will be Alfred's soon. I'll have no need for that when I'm gone, will I? Consider it my Christmas gift to you, Arthur. Happy Christmas. Oh, and tell Alfred to take good care of the store." And with that, he shuffled away without another word for me.

Too confused to say much, I made my way back out of the store, placing the present into my satchel and making my way back home, where Alfred was spending his vacation from school and work playing creepy video games in his bedroom, sometimes actually coming out to have a conversation with me that was more than two words. Apparently, it was the fact that he didn't want me to know about his job that he'd been secluding himself from me.

On Christmas Eve, he helped me put up a tree I had had him cut down a few days before and even decorated it before placing the star on the top and lighting it all up in a blaze of neon colors. It was beautiful…perhaps the most beautiful Christmas tree I'd ever seen before, even being from a high-class family. I couldn't believe how much he'd grown, to be able to wrap a tree in lights and ornaments. It made me even more excited to see the look on his face when he opened up that present that he'd been wanting for years.

After that, I made hot cocoa for the both of us, loading it with marshmallows like Alfred liked it, and we both sat down together by the window, watching the tree shine brightly and talking.

"Thank you, Alfred. The tree looks brilliant this year. Much better than the one Barclay had…it quite reminded me of that Charlie Brown Christmas special you showed me last year…"

He laughed, clearly remembering when we'd begged my brother to get a tree and he'd come home with the saddest little thing I'd ever seen. "Dude, that thing wouldn't have even been considered a bush! That was such an epic fail!"

I raised an eyebrow at his strange use of words. "Yes, it was indeed an "epic fail" on his part. Though now that I'm thinking of it, he probably just did it to get on my nerves. Barclay's such a wanker."

"Hey, Arthur…We've been friends for a really long time, right?"

My heart skipped a beat, though I wasn't sure why. "Um, yes, I suppose so. Why do you ask?"

He put a hand to his chin. "Well, I've been listening to you say all kinds of weirdo British words since I was eight…so I've kinda been wondering, what IS a wanker? Like, what does that even mean?"

I tried not to show it as my heart sank with his rising idiocy. "Oh, well…how old are you again? Fourteen? No, you're definitely still too young to know. Sorry, I'm afraid I can't tell you."

His eyes widened and he gave me his best puppy-dog look as he whimpered, "Oh, come on, Arthur! Why won't you tell me? Is it dirty or something? I can handle it, come on, PLEASE?"

I couldn't fight the laugh that escaped my throat at his expression. "Alfred, cease this nonsense, you look absolutely ridiculous!"

The smile that flew across his mouth melted my heart.

The next morning, Alfred flew into my room, jumping on the bed at six a.m. as he had been every Christmas since we'd met. Shaking me awake and shoving my cup of tea in my hands, he yanked me up before placing me on the couch to watch as he tore into his presents like a crazy child. He ignored the clothes, got very excited about the r/c helicopter and plane models, and finally, when he'd calmed down, he got to the last one, the colorful one that had been an old man's gift.

It was almost as if he knew; he was dead quiet as he pulled the lid off the box and stared in, taking the bomber jacket gingerly out and holding it up in awe.

"Arthur…" he murmured, in a gentle tone I'd never known he had.

Of course, with him, such tenderness was short lived.

"ARTHUR!DUDE!YOU GOT ME THE JACKET IT MUST HAVE BEEN SO EXPENSIVE OMG I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!" he screamed, leaping all over me and laughing.

"Get OFF me, you git!" I yelled, through my own chuckles. "Yes, yes, you're welcome, but you should really thank Mr. Walton. This was a gift from him, free of charge. He declined my money."

Startled, he paused in his excitement just long enough to put the jacket on and model it for me with a ridiculous pose. "What do you think? Am I sexy?"

I rolled my eyes. "Idiot. When the holidays are over, I expect you to go and thank Mr. Walton properly, okay?"

"Okay! Awesome! Dude…" He looked my straight in the eyes. "Seriously. I love you for this."

I felt my face flush a little and I looked away, even as he shoved the presents he'd gotten me in my lap. "You're welcome, Alfred. I…I love you, too."

"What?" he asked, digging under the tree for the very last present.

My heart filling with a desperate emotion that I knew would never be requited, I cast my eyes sadly down at the gorgeous watch Alfred had gotten me, wishing he wasn't my brother. "Nothing…Nothing at all."


	7. Freedom

**Hello, everyone~! Another chapter up, just for you guys. Hope you enjoy it and let me know how i did! ;)**

There was no way I could've imagined this. How could I have foreseen anything less than happiness after the lovely holiday Alfred and I had just spent together? It was as if we had come together for Christmas…to celebrate the last time we'd ever be on the same wavelength. Because not long after, our lives went back to hell.

Mr. Walton passed away right as the New Year was welcomed in.

I could tell how hard it struck Alfred, how difficult it was for him to accept this. It hadn't been very long that he'd known the geezer, but it was obvious he'd formed an irreplaceable bond with him. Another American man…one who could tell him stories all day that involved things he actually wanted to hear. It was different when you were with someone who was like you. That had been his only connection to the country he had been born in.

News of the elderly man's passing came to us in the form of a letter. It was addressed to Alfred, of course, but since to most he was legally dead, it made me a little suspicious, so I opened it. It was quite easy to recognize the old man's style of speech in the scrawling, shaky handwriting that unevenly littered the page. As I read farther and farther, I could feel my heart sinking. He'd sent Alfred the letter to let him know that the shop was now his, which only meant one thing; Mr. Walton had, just a week after our meeting, passed on.

It was completely heartbreaking to actually tell Alfred, to hand him the note and watch his usually-ecstatic face be twisted by the grief and pain of the situation. By the time he got to the end, there was no sign of MY Alfred, the smiling, idiotic Alfred I'd grown fond of. For the first time since I'd met him, he looked completely devoid of any miniscule joy. Then, hugging the bomber jacket closer to himself, he yelled at me for opening the letter and disappeared into his room to fall into pieces privately.

Later that night, while I was lying awake in bed wondering what the bloody hell had happened in this stupid life, he came into my room, looking completely miserable.

"Arthur…" he started, his voice hoarse.

I interrupted him. "You don't have to be sorry," I told him, trying to be gentle. "You're perfectly right, of course…it was wrong that I opened the letter. I'm really sorry…"

It was obvious he was trying to hold back the tears as he stared at me, his face slightly contorted from the effort. "That's not it…" he muttered, seeming embarrassed. "Uh…do you remember when I was little and we had no place to live and stuff?"

I nodded, not seeing where this conversation was headed.

"Well, whenever I got upset…you would…y'know…let me sleep in the bed with you…" He looked away, letting the words sink in.

Was this really happening? "Alfred…are you saying you would like to sleep with me tonight?" I asked him, my face flushing lightly at the strangeness of the whole situation.

Still not meeting my eyes, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

"You're way too old for this," I grumbled, but I scooted over to make room, acting aggravated to hide my impure happiness. "What are you now? Fifteen?"

"Fourteen!" he corrected, a small grin in his voice as he climbed in next to me. "Artie?"

I glanced over at him in the darkness, watching the moonlight from the window as it reflected off his brilliant oceanic irises, and felt my heart start throbbing. "Y-yes?" I breathed, looking away before he could read my expression.

He put his arms around me, pulling me into him. "Thank you…for everything."

Not trusting myself to speak, I just grunted and tried my best to shove him away.

The next morning, everything went back to normal. Alfred was back to acting the way he had when he'd been hiding his job from me, sulky and brooding. I suspected the reason behind his mood change was that he'd finally registered the reality of the situation he was in. After the death of his friend, he was now in charge of a whole business on his own with no one to guide him any longer. Of course I'd be there to help when I wasn't busy with my own job, but being a waiter was actually fairly grueling work sometimes. Plus, he had school every weekday.

There was no possible way to keep his AND Mr. Walton's dreams alive.

Selling the store was a serious option, but every time I suggested it, Alfred got furious and stormed away, clearly not caring what I had to say. He was going to keep the store and that was that, he said. As it was an old man's dying wish, though, I tried not to butt in too much. Persistence clearly wasn't going to change Alfred's mind in the slightest; he'd become nearly as stubborn as me.

Our relationship had definitely changed as he'd grown. When he'd been little, it had been easy to dismiss my desire to spend time with him as a brotherly, even paternal thing. There were times that I'd felt more like a father than a brother. But now…I felt as if there couldn't possibly be more tension. I was no longer a big brother in his eyes. Somehow, I'd lost that status. Actually, it seemed that I was MORE like a parent to him now than I once had been. Because everything I suggested, he just threw back in my face angrily…just like any other teenager with their parents.

Funny thing was, he didn't realize how much it hurt every time he yelled at me, told me I was wrong for having taken him off the streets, told me I was just another stupid adult trying to take away his freedom. I'd only done these things because I cared for him. Once upon a time, he HAD realized that. And appreciated it, too. But now…now…I was nothing more than a roadblock to him, stealing all the possibilities of ever reaching the real world.

One night, a few months after he'd turned fifteen, after he'd told me how worthless I was when he needed me, I finally broke and fought back. That wanker had screamed at me for the last bloody time. This had to stop.

"Alfred F. Jones," I snarled between my teeth. "YOU are the most pathetic excuse of a decent gentleman I have EVER seen. You've been nothing but rude to me for nearly a year now and I'm sick of having to hear someone I care so much about holler painful obscenities in my face every time he's around me! I only did what I did because I wanted what was best for you and now you're going to shove my mistakes in my face like I'm some sort of perfect person?" I could feel myself getting choked up, looking at the surprise on his face. "Fine. If that's what you think, then great. But I'm tired of it. So, Alfred, either get the hell out of my house or straighten yourself out, because you better be damn sure that the next time you insult me and expect me to leave the door unlocked for you, I'm afraid that you're going to come home to find everything you believe you own GONE. You'll never set foot in this flat again."

It hurt to say those words, to watch his face as I did, but they had to be said. I couldn't do this anymore. His hormones didn't give him an excuse to act like a total ass.

For awhile, he just stared at me with uncertain, somewhat angry eyes. Maybe it was just a glimmer of false hope on my part, but I was fairly sure I could see the sadness in him, the desperation to be forgiven. This anger wasn't who he was and he knew that. He scowled deeply, his eyebrows turning up in a sort of melancholy way before he turned to leave the room with a nearly silent, "I'm sorry…"

The minute he was gone, I went into my own room and let a few tears escape. "Damn him…" I hissed into my pillow. "Why do I have to love that idiot so much? What's wrong with him?"

I raged quietly, spouting curses, until, exhausted from the building stress, I fell asleep, wishing that little Alfred would just come back already and save me from THIS mean dragon…

When I woke up, I could feel something was off.

The tension that had been nearly tangible yesterday had dissipated. In its place, a strange emptiness had emerged inexplicably. Was it because of how awful I felt for yelling at Alfred? Deciding that was it, I got dressed and went to have some breakfast, wondering if I should maybe wake him up and tell him I was sorry before I headed off to work.

It was when I went into his room quietly that I knew. I didn't even have to register the note on his night table to know he was no longer here. Alfred being Alfred, he had taken my words seriously. When I'd told him to leave, he'd done it. Maybe he'd just wanted to leave me all along. After all, I was the bad guy. I was the one who'd taken away his so called "freedom."

This was more than supported by the words in the small letter he'd written and left for me.

_I'm sorry for what I did to you, Artie. I knew you were in pain…but I just couldn't stop myself from hurting you. All I wanted was my freedom…and I couldn't have that while you were standing in my way, protecting me just like the great brother you always have been. I'll never forget what you did for me, dude…and I really did appreciate it. I've just been wishing I'd been old enough to make my decisions then, and now that I am, I'm going back to America. I love you, Artie! Good luck _

-_Alfred_

America. He'd run off to America to live his stupid, selfish dreams all alone. Despite everything I'd done for him, he'd just left me all alone in the end. My heart contracted, my throat tightening. Trying to hold back the sobs that I could feel building, I went and got my breakfast as usual. There was no way he could get to America on his own. He wasn't that smart, nor did he have that kind of money on him. I managed to force a grin, though my eyes were brimming with tears.

He couldn't really be gone.

There was no way he'd just up and left.

He wouldn't make it over there alone.

He needed me to take care of him.

Suddenly, I started with a thought that had been hiding in the back of my mind since who knew when. What if…what if he didn't need me? What if he'd never needed my help? After all, it had been my sorrow that had brought us together to begin with. Was it remotely possible that I was the one who had needed him all along?

It was absolutely the truth. Unable to hold back any longer, the tears slid down my face, dropping gently, rhythmically into my tea as I cried. If only he would have said goodbye to me…if only he hadn't left to begin with. This was all my fault. If I had never threatened to slam the door in his face to begin with, he wouldn't have felt as compelled to leave. He would still be here now, safe with me in our home. I had to call him, had to contact him in some way so I could hear his voice once more. Who knew when I was going to see him again?

Quickly, wiping the tears away, I yanked the phone out of its cradle and dialed his cell phone, closing my eyes and praying for the first time in a long time. Please, please, please….and then it started ringing in his room, playing that annoyingly chirpy song that he enjoyed so much. Defeated, I threw the phone on the ground, starting to cry again.

This time I just let the stupid tears flow, not bothering to stop them as they poured out. This wasn't fair…I'd never gotten the chance. Any chance I'd ever had of being happy had drained the minute he'd left this place. So why bother, then? Why bother acting as if nothing had happened, like I could move on from this? Alfred had hurt me so many times…but this one seemed to sting the most. It was honest proof that I'd always loved him, but he'd never loved me. At least not in the way I'd wanted.

But I'd been wrong to love him like that. I'd never felt so much disgust toward myself, not even when I'd agreed to let Francis date me. It was wrong to want your little brother the way I did, and yet I didn't seem to be able to make the feeling leave. I was deplorable; it was no wonder everyone I ever came in contact with disappeared.

Miserably, I found myself going through the motions of getting ready for work and heading out to get to the restaurant, but my brain wasn't quite there. It seemed to be nothing more than muscle memory dragging me back to my wretched life, convincing me not to give up just yet. I dragged my feet as I walked, hearing the sounds of the world outside, but not really seeing anything. Nothing but a smiling child hiding in the back of my memories, calling me his big brother and loving me with every inch of his oversized heart.

I should've known work would be a disaster today; as a waiter, you had to be completely there. I was forced to make my customers repeat their orders at least twice before I understood. Eventually, my boss just came out and sent me home, kindly telling me that I couldn't be a "torn up faggot" when I came to work the next day.

Alone again, I just sat in my flat staring out the window, remembering everything I could.

His soft, dirty blond hair that always shined, his bright, energetic blue eyes, the pure color of nothing less brilliant than sapphire, his bright smile that could make me grin back even when our lives were crashing down around us. The way he spoke to me, with a special, protective tone, his American accent, his crazy little curl that always stuck up on the front of his head. His clothes, always much too informal, casual, just like his whole attitude of the world. Every single thing about Alfred was important to me, no matter how small. Maybe it was creepy, but I loved him.

The sky, which had been miraculously blue today, was filling fast with thick, puffy sheets of gray, a storm clear in the near future. As the sun went out, I closed my eyes and lay back, hugging my chest.

"Alfred…" I murmured. "I'm so sorry…"

Too little, too late.

And then there was a knock on the door.

Astonished, I shot up as fast as I possibly could, nearly over turning the coffee table in my hurry. Tripping over my own feet like I hadn't done since I was two, I threw the door open, expecting to see Alfred, smile on his face, ready to come back to me where he belonged. Instead, I was face to face with someone I hadn't seen since I'd run off with Alfred to begin with.

My mother.

"Mum," I mumbled, trying not to sound overly disappointed.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "Mum? That's all you have to say to me after disappearing for seven years, Arthur Kirkland?" Then her expression softened and I could tell she hadn't come here to yell at me. Throwing her arms around me she cried, "Oh, Artie…I've missed you so much! We all have! I'm so very sorry that I made such a horrible decision. What kind of mother throws her son out of her home?"

I started, patronized by her comment. Me. I was the kind of MOTHER who threw her son out. I was just like my mother.

"Mum…" I said again, pushing her away. "Would you like some tea?" Before waiting for her answer, I turned and headed for the kitchen.

"Actually, Artie, sweetie, I won't be staying long. Barclay tipped me off that you were here you see, and I have a question that I've been holding in for quite a while."

Unable to face her, I just stopped, pausing to listen.

She sighed. "Yes, well…Arthur? Ever since you stormed off with that child, I've been wondering…Who was so precious to you that you'd even leave your own family to care for him? And where is he now? Did he run back to the garbage cans the second you left us?"

It was almost as if she were rubbing salt in my wounds. Uncaringly, she sat there and spoke of Alfred as if he were nothing but a street rat. But I knew better than her…he was so much more than that. "Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. That's his name. And he…he isn't in at the moment. But he'll be back." Gritting my teeth, I turned to her. "Is that sufficient enough, you old hag?"

"Yes. But I have just one more question," she said, ignoring my insults. "How…how much exactly do you love Alfred?"

My mind froze as I stared into her eyes, her honestly concerned eyes. She was worried about me. She thought I was raping children! "You've been my mother for nineteen years, Mum. I'm not a pedophile. Alfred had never been anything more than a dear little brother to me!" A lie, but she didn't need to know the truth. It disgusted me more than anyone. "Besides…I'm not much into men."

A spark flickered in her eyes, almost as if she was going to call my bluffs, but she didn't. Instead, she said, "Thank heavens…I didn't know if I could handle another homosexual in the family. Hopefully, you'll be the one to pass the line on. In fact, why don't you stop over at home sometime? Maybe we can find you a suitable woman together."

Trying not to grimace, I nodded. "Y-yes…well, thank you for stopping by. It was good to see you."

Sighing once more, she left, closing the door behind her.

The minute I was sure she was gone, I headed to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of scotch, I made my way to the couch before drowning away my sorrows the only real way I knew how.

Just like my father once had.


	8. Texas

**Hello, everyone~! Finally, another chapter :D Updates are going to be a bit slower, most likely, now that school's finally started again, so i'll try my hardest to keep this fic going! Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated, hope you enjoy the latest installment!**

Looking around, the place seemed larger, much emptier than it had when I had spent my days here. It was a feeling that was rather difficult to describe, really. Once upon a time, this mansion had been home to me. Now it felt as if I were walking into any other abandoned building.

It was strange how a few years out on your own aged you. I was no longer the child I had been either, trying to sneak worthless little street rats into my closet to hide them. I was an adult…and I was ready to visit everything I had once decided to leave behind. Now that Alfred was gone, I didn't really have much of a reason for not coming home, though it wasn't to find a "suitable woman" as my mother had suggested. In truth, I'd wanted to see how my brother's were holding up without our father.

How many years had it been since I'd foolishly run off to house a boy who would eventually scorn me? How many years had it been since I'd stayed with Barclay and he'd told me our father had committed suicide? Nearly seven… Seven years of missing memories that I could have…should have had. Peter probably didn't even remember me.

Summoning up all my courage, I went inside, opening the door with the spare key we hid under the mat. I knew nobody would be home, as Mum was most likely working and the kids were at school, so I could have a bit of alone time, reconnecting myself with what I'd once lost. Everything that wanker Alfred had kept me from experiencing.

The first thing that struck me as odd was the cold, icy feeling that seemed to come with the living room. Once upon a time, there had been children running all about in here, somebody watching their shows, somebody playing a game, our parents arguing, at least. Now, the lifelessness reached out and grabbed me, made a peculiar melancholy feeling spread through me. It made me wonder if the rest of the house felt this way as well.

Nervous, I went up and investigated the rooms, seeing how everything had changed. Obviously it was all new, different. Completely unfamiliar. Everyone had grown since I'd last been here and apparently so had their tastes. Well, maybe not everyone's; Lachlan's room was still filled to the brim with koalas. But other than that it was nothing like it once had been.

Finally, I reached the door to my room. What had Mum done to it once I'd left? Had she kept it the same, hoping that one day I would come to my senses and return? Maybe it was pointless to believe, but I stuck to that hope, opening the door…only to have disappointment stare me in the face. Of course she hadn't. After all, she had been complaining about needing a home office before I'd left. Clearly, the decision to replace me hadn't been nearly as hard as I'd believed it would be.

This had been a stupid idea. It was painfully obvious that I was no longer wanted here. I hadn't been for seven years. Maybe I never had been.

Turning around, biting my lip to hold back the bitter feeling of resentment rising in my throat, I didn't see her until I'd crashed right into her, knocking her off her feet.

"Excuse-" I started, before realizing I was in my own home and that the person I'd knocked over was my mother.

She looked up at me furiously, her steely green eyes full of malice. "Arthur? What in bloody hell are you doing here?"

I stared at her, confused. Hadn't she been the one who'd invited me to come back to begin with? And what right did she have to look so infuriated when she'd replaced me for a damn home office? "Uh…I was just visiting…" I muttered, trying not to meet her eyes.

Brushing herself off, she stood again, towering over me in a way that surprised me. Hadn't I even outgrown my mother?

Suddenly, the rage flew from her face and was replaced by a quick, fake smile. "Oh, yes, I did invite you here, didn't I? Have you considered my suggestion to find a woman, then?"

I hated the way her voice rose in expectancy, the way her hard eyes melted into the same emerald color as mine when she was about to get what she'd wanted. Like a greedy child at Christmas. "No. I won't be dating any time soon, I think. It's hard enough to support myself and…and Alfred. I don't need a snobby female in my life."

The slight quiver in my voice when I'd said Alfred's name seemed to stick with her. Obviously curious about the causation of such a blunder, she told me, "That's perfectly fine, dear. You don't need to marry right when you're just getting started, after all! Why don't we sit down for some tea and catch up?"

Not really seeing another alternative, I agreed.

Sitting down in the desolate living room, I found it quite hard to keep my thoughts from shifting to my lack of love life while Mum made our tea. Of course, that hadn't been my original reason for coming back, but now that I was here, I was starting to think that possibly it wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe it would be good for keeping my mind off Alfred. All the alcohol I'd been drinking couldn't be good for me. A safer alternative…or distraction, as I saw it, could be a lover.

I'd never planned on getting married, not even when all the little girls in preschool had wanted to have a fake wedding with me. I'd politely declined and gone over to read. Even now, so many years later, I felt the same about such rash commitment. However, I couldn't deny the fact that I was still just a human being, with human…desires. Even the most polite of gentlemen did. Life without a lover just made it a bit much more difficult to deal with.

And life without Alfred made it unbearable.

Waking up alone every morning, eating meals by myself, going to bed without hearing his voice saying "Good night" in a cheerful tone…I'd grown so used to these things that I'd begun to take them for granted. When he'd left, it had made me realize how very much I DID need him. Of course, I'd still convinced myself he needed me more, but there was something about coming home to an empty flat that tore a hole right through my already paper-fragile heart.

"Here you are." The sound of my mother setting a cup of steaming tea in front of me startled me out of my daze. "Now, sweetie…I know I dropped in rather unexpectedly a few weeks ago and sprung some rather…sensitive subjects on you abruptly. I apologize for that. I also apologize for turning your room into a home office, but that was done quite recently, only a month or so ago. I didn't change it until I was sure you were never coming back…up until then, I touched nothing. Then Barclay gave me a call and told me you'd moved out of his place, found a flat of your own. That was when I decided you were never coming home."

Taking a gentle sip of the boiling liquid, I tried to keep my gaze off her again.

"And yet, here you sit. Finally a man, not to mention one with a respectable occupation and quite a load of responsibility. Speaking of which, how is the little credent? Alfred, was it? You said when I dropped in he wasn't there. Why didn't you bring him with you today? Why would you want to leave your dear little brother home?"

My hand tightened around my cup, my eyes boring into the dark brown liquid as I tried desperately to keep the emotion off my face, out of my voice. "Alfred didn't want to come," I told her, feeling my throat tighten. "He didn't want to come to a place where he wasn't welcome."

Her eyes softened as she watched me and my feeble attempts to keep my feelings at bay. "Artie…" she murmured.

I continued, unable to stop talking despite the fact that every word brought me closer to tears. "H-he… wanted to make his own choice about coming with me. I told him he was welcome to come with me, to stay with me, but he told me that he didn't need me to babysit him anymore. He said he d-didn't need ME anymore…" My voice wavered.

There was no way I could hold it in anymore. I hadn't realized how much this had been tearing me up inside.

I set my tea down and put my head in my hands, trying hard not to sob.

"Artie…" Mum whispered again, pulling me into her arms. "Shh, it's okay…It'll be okay, sweetheart."

I felt her kiss the top of my head, but right now, I didn't care whether she was the bitch she'd come to be or the Mum who'd loved me deeply. She was the only comfort I had. The only shoulder I had to cry on.

After breaking down, I told her what had happened, omitting the parts where my attraction to Alfred had become a bit too intense. She sat there, listening quietly until I finished, never letting go of my hand, as if just that would give me the strength to keep myself going. When I was finally done, she only had one thing to say.

"Arthur…doesn't this sound just a bit familiar to you?"

After that, she told me to go home and get some rest, adding that I come back whenever I was ready to see my brothers for real. Grudgingly, I'd agreed to leave, embarrassed that I'd ended up breaking down to someone as vindictive as my mother.

So I'd come back home, only to lie in bed, further from sleep than ever.

I was completely exhausted, heart and soul. There was nothing I wouldn't do at this point to get rid of this heavy, deserted, unwanted feeling. I'd even considered getting a woman, for God' sake. Crying into my mother's arms had been where I'd drawn the line. This had to end or I would waste away to nothing.

I had to go find Alfred and tell him…tell him what? How I felt about him? He was only fifteen. No matter what, it would be completely wrong. Two men? Unthinkable. But a BOY and a man? Despicable. Wrong. Inhuman, dirty, sick. There were so many adjectives to describe me.

No, I had to go find him and convince him to come home, leaving my love for him out of it.

But how could I do that if I had no idea where he'd gone? It wasn't as if America were just a tiny country where everyone knew each other. There were fifty different states he'd had to choose from. Did I know him well enough to pinpoint exactly where I felt he'd gone? And even if I managed to do that, there was no way I would be able to find what city. It was really a hopeless cause…

Or at least that's what I'd convinced myself until there was a knock on the door.

This was vaguely familiar…Hurriedly, I pulled on a shirt and made my way to answer it, praying to God that it wasn't anyone I knew. The second I opened it, I felt a small smile flit across my face briefly. It was just my neighbor, Emilie, a young woman in her twenties. She taught kindergarten at a local elementary school and attended classes at a nearby college as well.

"Hello," I told her politely, hoping my hair wasn't too out of place.

She gave me a sweet grin, her dimples popping out. "Hello, Arthur."

Brushing a hand across my head self-consciously, I asked, "What can I do for you, Emilie?"

Seeming slightly abashed herself, she extended out her hand, showing me an envelope. "I'm sorry to wake you, but it seems the mailman accidentally gave me a private letter addressed to you…I unintentionally opened it, thinking it was for me, but then when I read the "dear Arthur"…well, I put it back as quickly as I possibly could. I'm very sorry…" Nervously, she twisted a piece of her dark brown hair around her finger.

Taking the letter, I skimmed over it and instantly recognized the messy, haphazard handwriting. "Thank you, Emilie, that's quite alright," I told her, suddenly eager for her to be gone.

Except she didn't leave. "Um…I may have accidentally read a word or two…" she admitted. "Again, I'm so sorry…but I wasn't aware you were going through so much right now. I was wondering if I could possibly do anything to help? I mean, I did realize you seemed to be losing a bit of weight, but I just put it off as none of my business…"

"Emilie." I tried to say her name in a way that wasn't overly harsh, but I wasn't exactly in the mood to treat her prying with patience. "I'm well. Thank you."

This time she heard the clear dismissal in my tone. Watching her dimples disappear, she said her final goodbye and made her way back to her own flat. I felt a little bad watching her go so obviously upset by my rejection, but the letter was my top priority. Alfred was writing to me from America.

Going back to my bedroom, I shut the door and flipped on my light, needing his personality, his disposition, his charm. Quickly, I pulled the note from the violated envelope and began reading, making sure every word he said sunk in.

_Dear Arthur,_

_America is so cool! I totally wish I could've grown up here! There's so much more junk food, not to mention like a gazillion more flavors of soda! Can you believe they make chocolate soda? It's kinda nasty, but still! Also, there are some really cool people here, and they all talk like me! Some of them even act like me! Oh, and guess what? I found another job to keep myself going for a little bit. Of course I've still got people managing the store back in London, so you don't need to worry about that, but this should help me find a place to stay. Leaving broke was totally a bad idea…I spent a week or two scrounging up food and living on the streets again, just like when I was a kid… You'd be surprised how fast the instincts come back. But now that I forged a parent signature on some job form thing, I'm working at the awesomest place in the world! McDonalds! I get free burgers, so I really just did it for the food, but it's still pretty sweet. I actually made some friends here, too, who are letting me crash in their basement 'til I get an apartment or something. So yeah, I'm doing pretty okay for myself over here. Freedom, y'know? Still…sometimes I miss waking up and knowing you're there…and eating with you…and having someone say "good night" to me every night. Maybe I'm just a little homesick. But I don't want you to baby me anymore, so I'm going to make it through this, 'kay? And then, when I'm finally successful, I'll go back to England and visit you again. _

_Hope you'll open the door for me when I get there,_

_Alfred_

"Alfred…" I whispered, holding the letter tighter in my hand. "You're such a bloody git…."

Lying back, I rolled over and cradled his precious words to my chest, closing my eyes, letting the sensation that he planned on coming back some day spread through me. With his smiling face in mind, his idiotic, smiling face, I finally fell asleep, drifting off with a sleepy grin.

Of course, when I woke up, I was lonelier than ever.

His words had meant so much to me last night, kept me company just enough so that I'd caught up on some much needed rest. However, this morning, they just seemed weak, mindless, pathetic excuses coming from a hormonal teenage boy. And of course, true to his form, he'd written his address on the envelope. Which meant whenever I desired it, I could go and try to convince him to come home.

I should have guessed he'd go some place warmer, closer to the south. He'd never really been a fan of the cold.

He'd found himself a place in Fort Worth, Texas, leaving me not only that but the exact address to the household he was living in. Suddenly, I was very glad that Alfred was an imbecile. Otherwise, I would have suffered for who-knew-how-long, waiting for the fool to get his act back together and come back to where he belonged. Of course, if he hadn't told me, there had also been a backup plan; he'd mentioned he was still managing the store. Clearly, the employees would know where he was.

Feeling a more positive outlook on the world, I decided to plan when I would be able to go fetch him. After all, when he'd suddenly left me all alone, I'd been depressed for a little while. My boss had demanded that I not come back to work until I'd gotten my act together, which had taken longer than I'd thought, so my funds, not to mention vacation days, were running a little low. An unpaid vacation was a simple setback, but because of it, it could be months before I scrounged up the money to buy a ticket…

Feeling another wave of loneliness hit as I examined mathematically how long it would take, I couldn't help but groan.

Six months. For a week's worth of depression, it would take six month for me to get completely back on my feet.

"Alfred," I moaned into my arm despairingly. "You'd better be grateful when I come to get you, wanker. And when you finally grow up, you'd better make me never regret loving you."


	9. Crashing Down

**Hey there, my friends ;) I feel like it's been forever since i put up a chapter, so i made this one! Thank you as always for reading and supporting! **

This whole trip made me incredibly nervous. For one, I was running off to Texas, which was not my idea of an average vacation. And…well, obviously I was running off to Texas to grab Alfred by his bloody hair and drag him back home, where I would eventually profess my love to him.

I sighed at the cheesiness of the whole situation.

For the nine billionth time I tossed in my bed, trying to get some rest before tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow I would finally get to see his face again… Abstractly, my thoughts began to wander to what he might look like now. After all, a whole year had gone by. What else had time changed about him? Had he grown even taller than he had been? Would he still be the same Alfred he had been here or had he matured?

At first I had been sure I'd be able to raise enough money to find him in half a year. That had been my young, naïve delusion. In factoring everything, I'd miscalculated somewhere across the line and by the time six months had gone by, I'd been only halfway there in my savings. With a heavy heart, I'd been forced to postpone my trip and continue going through the motions of life, solitude a pressing capsule around me. I'd even gotten myself a second job at the library, just to try and get to America faster.

And now, after so much hard work, I had enough vacation time in both my jobs to stay in Texas with Alfred for two weeks before I brought him home.

He hadn't written me back since that day, so long ago now, when he'd mentioned he was housing with a friend at the moment and working at the grease factory, McDonald's. His silence concerned me, since he was always talking, and not sending me a stupid letter to convince me he was fine was completely out of his character. It made me all the more anxious to hurry up and make him realize how much he needed help, whether the git wanted to admit it to himself or not. And…well, not being alone anymore sounded like a rather good plan, too.

I was starting to doze off a little, thinking of how happy I would be to see him again, when the phone started ringing. My lids lazed back open and I pulled myself up, snatching the shrill telephone off its cradle and asking exhaustedly, a rather annoyed hint to my tone, "Hello? Arthur Kirkland speaking."

"Artie!"

In astonishment, I couldn't help but stare at the static-riddled phone. "A-Alfred? What in blazes are you doing calling at two o'clock in the morning?" I tried to imitate fury, but my attempts fell short. I couldn't believe this…hadn't I just been thinking about how he'd been ignoring me?

"Dude, I need your help. I was going back to London, 'cause something went wrong in the shop and I had to make a decision…Artie, the plane crashed. We're at the hospital now…I'm okay, don't worry too much, but…but Mattie got hurt bad. I know this is a lot to ask of you, y'know, since I've been a total jerk and I'm sorry, but I REALLY need you to get ahold of my mom for me. The doctors are trying to do surgery on him but they can't without a parent's consent."

Unable to comprehend, I just muttered, "Absolutely," before hanging up.

In a sort of daze, I pulled a coat on over my nightclothes and headed for the door, not even registering that I hadn't the slightest idea where Alfred's mum lived until I was halfway out the threshold.

Then again, it turned out not to matter.

There, standing in the doorway with a bright smile as if he had just won the lottery, was Alfred.

He was wearing the bomber jacket I'd bought him for the last Christmas we'd spent together, looking relatively more muscular than he had when he was fifteen, as if he had grown into his skin. Definitely taller, he loomed nearly a good two, possibly three inches above me. However, the biggest and most noticeable difference on his whole being was the pair of wire glasses that now hung loosely on his nose.

I'd imagined meeting Alfred again many times. I'd pictured several different scenes, with a variety of emotions running through me as I was finally able to tell him what he meant to me for real, without being afraid. Hell, I'd even gone through the cheesiest romantic mental image a _teenage girl_ could picture. Not once had I contemplated feeling like this.

I was absolutely livid. His ecstatic smile no longer seemed to welcome me home; now it felt more as if he were mocking me. The gleam in his eyes now suggested something sinister and revolting, rather than the bright warmth they once exuded. He'd tricked me. This lowly little bastard had fooled me into thinking he was really in danger.

Fury pulled tears from my eyes, shame boiling inside me. Of course. This was what had become of Alfred under my guidance. Not only had he lost that sweet edge that had caused me to spare him to begin with, he'd turned into a rebellious, unruly fool. How had I ever allowed myself to fall in love with someone so completely unworthy?

"What the bloody HELL is wrong with you?" I spat, trying desperately to keep my voice from quivering. "Alfred…what are you DOING here?"

Assessing my mood, his smile vanished and was replaced by his all-too-familiar pout. "Artie… I'm really sorry. I didn't just do that to trick you into coming out here. It actually happened. But it happened a few days ago. And I kinda was getting treated for a head injury then, so…I wanted to make it up to you so you wouldn't be mad that I forgot to tell you. I've been forgetting a lot and I wanted to make sure you knew what was going on! The doctor said he thinks my memory is gonna get a little messed up later. So now you know and can't get mad!" he told me, smiling again with an air of confidence.

I looked at his head, horrified. It seemed relatively uninjured, at least on the outside.

Still in shock, I watched helplessly as his eyes rolled in and out focus, as he smiled, frowned, and then smiled again. Seeing him like this….it sent icy chills through me, a feeling of dark desperation leaking out from my soul. As I continued to stare at my Alfred, my old, loving, happy Alfred, I came to a conclusion.

This must be what it feels like when your heart breaks in two.

There was a certain feeling of denial that settled in me as I attempted to come to terms with his amnesia. Maybe…maybe the doctor was wrong. It was always possible, after all, that Alfred would remember everything. How could he possibly forget everything I'd done for him in his life? The best connection the two of us had was that we'd done everything we could to survive _together._ It was the one thing that had always kept that string of brotherly love attached. Without it…what were we but two, perfect strangers?

"A-Alfred…why don't you come in and take a seat?" I asked him, despising the formal tone my voice had taken on.

He looked a little confused for a second, but hurried inside and sat on the couch, smiling and rubbing his hand across the fabric. When he saw me watching him, he explained, "I want to try and remember anything I possibly can, or anything that might trigger a bunch of good memories when I lose them all. That's what the doctor told me to do! Like, that's why I have the jacket you gave me on! It's totally familiar and it should help my memory not totally get jacked up and stuff."

I bit my lip, watching as he drew a hand lovingly across the leather fabric, his eyes gentle as if he were looking at a young child. I felt a sharp pang in my heart when he brought the sleeve up to his nose and gave it a small sniff, before looking up and saying, an idiotic grin on his face, "Dude, no matter how many times I wash this thing, it still smells like you."

"Does it?" I mumbled, wiping my eyes hastily with the sleeve of my own coat. "Well, um, it's actually quite late and I'm incredibly tired, so I'm going back to bed. You're welcome to stay in your old bedroom, okay?" Feeling the warmth I always associated with him rising in my heart again, I told him, a small smile on my lips, "Good night, Alfred. Please be here tomorrow when I wake up."

He laughed, a sound which I had already unconsciously committed to memory. "Dude, don't worry, I will be! But wait, before you go….which one's my room again?"

My heart sunk again and I pointed to his old bedroom with a shaky arm before heading back into my own chamber and collapsing on the bed.

"Good night, Artie!"

I squeezed my eyes tightly, letting a few tears leak out as I drifted off.

* * *

><p>I had been so sure that everything last night had been a dream. I'd done everything to convince myself today was still the day I was going to Texas, that Alfred would be there, uninjured, and that life would stay as normal as it possibly could be.<p>

However, it's a little difficult to delude yourself when you wake up to the sounds of a teenage boy digging ravenously through your pantry.

Sleepily, I pulled on some clothes and headed out to find Alfred had already begun the breakfast-making process, only ceasing in his determination to say a quick and cheerful "Good morning!" to me before going back to his work. He appeared to be making pancakes, which was a skill that I certainly had never taught him. Anytime I'd made breakfast, Alfred had come home from school with a stomachache, so apparently McDonald's had taught him something useful.

I slid easily into the kitchen beside him, preparing a kettle of tea with nearly as much grace as Alfred had flipping the dough on the griddle. I tried to watch his back inconspicuously as he worked, noting the way his muscles moved under his thin t-shirt and feeling rather creepy about it.

What would Alfred say if he knew what was on my mind? How would he react if I told him I'd felt this way about him ever since he'd reached puberty? Of course, any normal teenage boy would call me a fag and be done with me, but that reaction in no way suited him. To me it seemed he'd either accept it in a positive way and we could be…together…or he'd reject it and go back to America, still loving me like he were my little brother. And then there was the head injury…soon, he wouldn't remember one bloody thing about the life we'd shared, the secrets I'd told him.

I froze, the kettle screaming as it boiled. That was it! He wouldn't remember anything I told him now anyway, right? Maybe, if I could just attain some form of higher-level relationship with him now, when he forgot I'd ever existed I wouldn't have to lie to him about being my boyfriend! Or, at least if things went horribly wrong, he would forget that as well. We could go back to being brothers and I would find another soul to spend my life with…maybe that girl next door, though she rather frightened me.

Stuck in my thoughts, I nearly didn't register it when I felt a gentle hand smack my backside.

Thankfully, Alfred awakened me by screaming, "Hey, Artie! Your tea's, like, about to explode!"

Still slightly out of it, I hurriedly switched the lever off and took a step back, but my mind wasn't on the tea any longer. Alfred…had smacked me on the butt. A rather demeaning gesture really, and he'd only done it to get my attention, but that didn't change the fact that he HAD done it.

"Yo, Arthur? You're way out of it today, dude! How many pancakes do you want?"

"Um…whatever's fine…?" I mumbled, feeling my face redden.

He watched me with smiling eyes, putting a few of his beautifully made pancakes on a plate for me and setting it up at the bar. "Man, your face is totally red now! Are you angry cause I smacked your butt or something?"

"Yes, quite. But that has no relation to my face whatsoever! It was probably the steam from the kettle!" I lied hastily, taking a bite out of a pancake. It was astonishingly delicious, almost as good as if they were homemade.

He chuckled, sitting down next to me and taking a gigantic mouthful of food. Through his chewing, he told me, "Pfft, it was the butt smack and you know it."

"Quit speaking to me with your mouth full, you bloody barbarian!" I told him, but I couldn't help adding, "And thank you for making breakfast. And…thank you for telling me what happened. I'm…I'm just glad you're alive and here with me right now. I missed you."

"Yeah…I'm sorry I got all jerky for awhile there. I shouldn't have run off like that, but I really just did it to spend time with Mattie and stuff. You told me I couldn't be with him and that was like telling a drug addict that the marijuana plant species had completely died off! Not saying I was addicted to him or anything weird like that, but I wanted to hang out with him. And him and Mom had moved to Texas, so that's where I went. I thought about you every single day…but after that first letter, I kinda got real busy in school and work and as much as I wanted to write you, I couldn't."

I looked over at him, feeling an intensity burning in me. "You ran off to America just so you could stay with your brother? Oh, and speaking of him, is he really very badly injured?"

Suddenly, his gaze was solemn and even, no longer joking. "I ran away cause I thought you were being unfair, but I always planned on coming back. And so I did, stupidly bringing Mattie with me…I thought it'd be awesome if he worked at my store so I could see him all the time and he wanted to come back anyway, cause he met some guy here or whatever. Then the plane crashed…lots of people died, Artie. I was lucky. Mattie got hurt real bad, but he's still alive. Mom came over from Texas and they did the surgery and now he's recovering in the hospital. He's going to be completely fine in a few months."

"And…and what about for you? How long is it going to take for you to be completely fine again?" I asked him, reaching out and taking his hand absently.

He didn't pull his hand away. In fact, he tightened his grip on our small embrace before saying, with a faux light tone, "Oh, y'know…it doesn't really matter! I'll be better in a few months too, probably!"

"Alfred…" I muttered anxiously, not adjusting to his attempted mood change. "How long did the doctor estimate?"

"He said it'd be a few years at best before I remembered half of what I'd lost…" His gaze dropped to where our hands were still entwined, an unfamiliar furrow in his brow.

I felt nausea rise up in me as the final realization of the true situation registered. Alfred was NOT okay. Despite his utterly familiar, unscathed exterior, there was a whole mess of injury in his brain that may never go away. For the rest of his life, he would be forgetting who he was, who I was, where we were…WHAT we were. All because of an exchange of foolish words and a less-than-intelligent decision to survive by himself in America. I had never taken Alfred for granted, not for one second, but that didn't make this horrid situation any better. If anything, it made it worse that this boy I held so dear would never be able to hold onto another long lasting emotion ever again.

There was no avoiding it anymore. I had to tell him how I felt before he forever lost the capability to experience the fleeting emotion of love. "A-Alfred?" I began, squeezing his hand hard. "I have something to say to you…I know it's going to seem quite awkward and possibly it may even scare you away, but I have to tell you this something before you…you know."

I'd expected him to fall quiet, but of course that was as usual just beyond his ability. "Actually, I have something I wanna say to you too, Artie! Yeah…it's kinda weird too…who should go first?"

Feeling my face flush again, I grumbled, "I'd actually prefer for you to, if you wouldn't mind. I would like to mentally prepare myself a bit more…"

"Okay! Well, ever since I left, I've been thinking 'Wow, I really hate it that Artie isn't here to see all this with me!' At first, I thought I just really wanted my big brother with me and stuff, because you were always, like, there for almost as long as I can remember. But after awhile, I started to get a really bad feeling in my heart and it wasn't exactly like you'd feel when you were missing a sibling, but kinda…well, more along the lines of how you'd feel after having a huge fight with someone you had a HUGE crush on…" He paused for a moment, assessing my mood and looking strangely nervous. "Is that weird?"

Unable to contain my smile, I gave him a sly grin and asked, "I'm not sure. Are you implying that you have a crush on me?"

And then the breathtaking smile was back and he was almost bouncing with excitement. "Well, yeah! I never really thought about liking anyone much because all I've ever been able to think about is ways to get that stick out of your butt and make you smile!"

"I'll ignore that for your sake. No, it isn't weird to like someone and want to make them smile…in fact, that's exactly what I wanted to say to you. I love you, Alfred. I have since day one. At first it WAS just a brotherly type of love, but…now it's a little more complicated. When…when you left, I was very distraught…I convinced myself I was a disgusting pervert and…what the devil are you looking at me like that for?"

His smile had turned from overjoyed to what could only be described as seductive in two seconds flat. "I'm gonna forget everything…right?"

"Y-yes…according to what you said. Why?" I asked, my voice trembling as he got closer.

"Well, there's something I've totally always wanted to do…Shouldn't I get to feel something nice before I lose it all?"

"I suppose…" I murmured, avoiding his eyes.

"Hey…I wanna see your face when I do it."

"You little perv-" I started, but before I could even finish the sentence, his arms were around me and he was holding me with all his might, his lips pressed so delicately against mine, it was almost as if they weren't there at all.

"Artie…I love you too."


	10. Losing My Way

**Hello everybody! I'm back ;) Just wanted to say thanks for reading my story and that I'm sorry if it sounds a little off, but i'm sick xP Sadly, this is the last chapter that pertains to the plot, but if you want, i could throw in a fun chapter! (I will, regardless) So, hope you enjoy it and happy reading!**

It was incredibly weird to entrust myself to Alfred after so many years of watching over him. It seemed like he had, in fact, matured more than I'd originally presumed. Obviously, or else he wouldn't have been able to lure me in like that, sneaky little wanker. Watching him sleep so peacefully beside me now, there was no evidence of the strange, unfamiliar man I'd seen in him last night. If anything, he looked even dumber than usual, with his jaw hanging slack, a drop of drool making its way out of his mouth.

I couldn't help but laugh, of course. He was a complete idiot, yes, but he was back with me now. There was nothing to worry about anymore. At least until he forgot who I was, I would keep trying to protect him.

Attempting to fight my embarrassment, I snuggled closer to him and ignored my burning face. His quiet snoring was peaceful, methodic as it reverberated through my body. I couldn't remember that he'd ever snored. Another change I'd missed in the time I'd been trying so hard to find him. Instead of infuriating me, however, it was actually quite relaxing, and I found myself planning our day, my thoughts easing along peacefully for once.

We would go and see Matthew as soon as we woke up. Maybe he had already forgotten his brother, but I hadn't. And I was sure he would be thanking me for trying to remind him of what was important later, whether he realized that's what this was or not. Then, after we spent a good amount of time with him, we would run by his store so I could check up on a few things before coming home and spending a nice evening together. Content with today's schedule, I drifted back to sleep, putting my arms lovingly around Alfred.

"Artie…Artie…dude? Hey it's, like, five o'clock in the afternoon! ARTIEEEEEEE!"

My tired eyes flickered open to find Alfred looming above me, his face a mask of concern. Shocked by our proximity, I shot up straight and smacked heads with him. "Ow! Bloody HELL, Alfred! What in blazes are you doing?"

Rubbing his injured skull gently, he pointed at the clock. "It's five o' clock in the afternoon! You've been asleep all day! I was getting worried that you'd DIED or something!"

"Five in the… ALFRED! Why didn't you wake me up sooner, you idiot?" I grabbed onto his shirt furiously, ignoring the ridiculous smile on his face. "I was going to take you to see your brother at the hospital today!"

For awhile, he just stared at me blankly, carefully confused. "My brother? At the hospital? What…why's Mattie in the hospital?"

My heart sank. So it had already begun…How long would it be before he forgot Matthew completely? Before he forgot me as well? How had I let this happen to him?

"Matthew was in a plane crash…as were you. Have you already forgotten that you're going to lose your memory?"

"I was…I was in a plane crash…? Ugh, dude, this is making my head hurt so bad! You'd think I'd remember being in a plane crash, but I don't…and I know you aren't joking because you NEVER joke around 'cause you're Arthur!" He got quiet, staring at me intensely before muttering, "You are Arthur…right?"

I blinked once before smacking him on his unworthy head. "Of course I am! Don't be ridiculous! Now get away from me, I'm going to change so that we can go. And please, try to remember your brother has been through much more suffering than you. He's had to get surgery due to his injuries. You escaped with a just memory loss." Shoving him out of the room, I slammed the door, pulled on some new clothes, and tried not to cry.

The walk to the hospital was a short one, as my flat was practically next door to it, give or take a few blocks. Once there, we were given his room number before heading upstairs, Alfred staring out the glass elevator at the world outside like a ridiculous small child.

"I can see your house from here!" he told me, pointing into the grey mist.

"No, you can't. That's not our apartment building, you git."

When we got to the room, it was obvious that there were already people here visiting him…people whose voices sounded ghastly familiar to me. It sparked unpleasant memories in my mind hearing the Frenchman sneer in his nasty frog tone, "Oh, but it is your birthday, _non_?"

I almost turned around and went back home, but the confused look on Alfred's face kept me pinned there, unable to leave.

"Sounds like people are already here…" he muttered. "Let's go say hi!"

Before I could tell him not to, he'd swung the door open and gone inside, leaving me standing alone in the hallway. Against my better judgment, I followed him, bristling like a cat.

"Oh, what have we here_?_" chuckled Francis. "Arthur, _mon cher, _it has been way too long! And Alfred! You have grown to look…just like Matthew, _oui?"_

"Please don't bother associating with them," I told Alfred, shoving past the "Bad Touch Trio" as they laughed and joked around. "You probably don't remember Francis, anyway. The other two are minor characters, so they are quite unimportant."

"Hey! How dare you call the AWESOME ME a minor character?"

I should have known this would elicit comment from HIM.

"Just ignore them," I said more to myself than anyone. "Just greet Matthew, see how he's feeling, and get OUT. Then we can go home. End of story."

"Alfred…" called Matthew's timid voice from the hospital bed.

He looked awful. His face was white, rigid with pain from his injuries and his eyes looked too blue in contrast against his pallid skin. There were severe bags under his eyes, as if these three dunderheads hadn't allowed him to sleep at all since his surgery…knowing them, they probably hadn't. Even under piles of blankets, he was quivering, though whether it was from the stress of everyone visiting or that he was actually cold, I couldn't honestly say. He had bandages everywhere from his neck down.

How had Alfred escaped so incredibly unscathed?

"Mattie!" Alfred said cheerfully, taking his little brother's bony hand in his. "What's up? How're you feeling?"

"Better…" he mumbled, his always-quiet voice nearly inaudible now. "Tired…"

Alfred's eyebrows creased in concern. "Maybe you should sleep then…oh, but before you do, I brought you something cool!"

Wait…what? When had he gotten something for him? Curious, I watched as he pulled a fuzzy white pillow with a messy maple leaf design embroidered into the side out from under his jacket.

He handed it over to his surprised brother in excitement. "I made it for you awhile back as a Christmas present, but then you moved back to America…so I'm giving it to you now as a 'get better soon, dude' present!"

Matthew smiled happily, holding the pillow tight. "Thank you…" he whispered, before closing his eyes. "One more thing…Arthur…"

"Yes, Matthew?" I asked, unsure of what he might need.

"Please…kick them out."

Now it was my turn to grin. "Why, of course. Sweet dreams, Matthew," I told him, before turning on the obnoxious trio behind us. "Alright, you bloody fools! Get the hell out of here!"

The rest of the day, though there wasn't much of it, I spent with Alfred as I had planned. We stopped by the shop for a moment to make sure things were running smoothly, and then headed back home, where Alfred made us dinner. I felt a routine in the making as I cleared up our plates and slid them into the dishwasher, my mind on Alfred's amnesia as I wiped off the counters.

He seemed to be forgetting things slowly…it almost felt as if nothing were wrong. But I knew better, of course. In the hospital, he'd remembered his brother well, but before we'd left, he'd seemed so confused. It was possible his memories would be triggered by exposure, meaning the more time he spent with a person or thing, the more he could recall about it. However…I wasn't positive. I would have to take him to a doctor immediately so that I could receive information firsthand.

"Artie," said his mischievous tone from behind me.

Sighing and wringing out the washcloth over the sink, I turned my head to find him standing with his hands behind his back. "Yes, Alfred? What is it?"

His face turned red and for the first time in a long time, he looked like his cute younger self. "I was just kinda wondering…are you, like, my boyfriend now that we…did it?"

Now it was my turn to flush as I held his gaze. "I-I…well…I suppose we are…" I mumbled, desperately wishing I had a distraction now. "And bloody HELL, Alfred, I don't ever want to hear you saying that we "did it" ever again! You aren't eleven anymore!"

"Kay!" he said, his smile way too candid as he hugged me. "So you're my boyfriend now that we had sex?"

"Alfred! Just shut up. You're embarrassing."

He stayed silent for a moment, embracing me quietly. But because it was Alfred, it didn't last nearly long enough. Placing his head on my shoulder and looking up at me with pleading sapphire eyes he asked, "Can we do it again?"

"No!" I growled, pushing him off. "That was…last night was a mistake!"

"It was a mistake?" he asked sadly, his face so pathetic my heart leapt in compassion. "Don't you love me, Artie?"

I turned away from him, crossing my arms. Ha! If I couldn't see his face, then I wouldn't be susceptible to his damned evil charms! "You know bloody well that I do! Don't act as if I'm the bad guy!"

"Okay," he sighed unhappily, hugging me from behind again. "I'm still really glad I came back home, Artie, even if it DID cost me my memories. I'm happy that I get to be with you again, no matter what!"

A pang of guilt reverberated through me. He'd been hurt because of me…Reminded of this, I let my head fall back against his chest in defeat. "Alright already," I muttered crankily, turning around and kissing him. "Stop acting like a pathetic child. And this time, make sure you wake me up before noon."

He kissed me back, wordlessly smiling and pushing me against the counter gently.

I never could have imagined this was the last time he would get to make love to me.

In the weeks after, I became engrossed with work, attempting to make up for all the days I had taken off so that I could earn the money to pay for the flat, even taking on a second job for the sake of Alfred's college funds. Alfred himself had school to go to, so by the time we both came home in the evening, we were absolutely exhausted. Not to mention Alfred had begun truly struggling to remember whole situations from his childhood.

He had difficulty recalling even his own name during his worse episodes.

The doctor said it was only a matter of time before he forgot me, as well.

It was even more difficult to deal with Alfred's rapid deterioration when I received a call from Francis, letting me know braggingly that Matthew had recovered enough to go back home. His teasing thinly masked the relief that his "little brother" was going to be alright.

I slammed the phone down into the cradle furiously, trying to muffle my sobs with my arm so that Alfred wouldn't hear. I'd never imagined that it could hurt this much to watch someone I cared so deeply for lose his mind. I was convinced it was almost more painful than when he'd left me. Why did it always have to hurt so much to love Alfred? Why was this so damn hard?

"Artie…?"

I looked up to find Alfred holding his math book, his eyes distant. Hurriedly, I wiped at my eyes. "Y-Yes, Alfred?"

Then he finally seemed to really see me. "Artie! Why are you crying? What happened?" he gasped loudly, sitting down next to me, his homework obviously forgotten.

"Nothing. I'm…I'm fine. Do you need help with your math homework?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

His brow furrowed. "What math homework? I had math homework?"

I laughed humorlessly, my heart breaking. "Well, then why on earth did you lug this textbook out here?"

"Uh…I did?" He laughed too, though his was genuine. "Guess I forgot! I totally don't even remember what page I was supposed to do…was I even supposed to do one? Dude…I am SO confused."

Trying to be patient, I asked him, sounding like a parent again, "Did you write down your assignment in the agenda I asked you to fill out every day? It would help you a lot, Alfred."

Biting his lip, he fidgeted uncomfortably. "I…well, I kinda forgot you gave me that agenda thing…"

I took a deep, shaky breath, unable to fight back a wave of despair that had my head in my hands. "It's okay, Alfred. It's okay. I think it's about time I took you out of school for a bit and brought you to a place that can help you to start remembering things better, does that sound good? I'm going to help you, Alfred. We…we have the money. I can get another job or something."

Sweetly, he stroked my hair. "No…Artie…I'm going to try to remember! I really am! Give me another chance! I'll write down my assignment tomorrow, I swear!"

I looked up at him, my eyes flooding with tears. "I bet you don't even recall saying that exact thing to me yesterday, do you?"

"No… please don't cry…I'm here…" he mumbled, looking more defeated than I'd ever seen him.

The next day, with a heavy heart, I spoke with Alfred's doctor, who agreed to let me take him to a recovery center for amnesia patients not too far out of London. There, he told me, he would check Alfred's progress every day until he was deemed healthy enough to return home with me. The estimated time of full recovery was three years, if the therapy went well. If not…I tried not to dwell too much on that.

Last time he'd left, it hadn't been for that long.

I couldn't believe how terrible I felt telling Alfred that he was going away again, having to watch his face as I let him know where he was going and why, as I brought him to the center, as I was told to leave and that I could come visit again after they'd fully evaluated him…it was as if I were ripping out a chunk of my soul and feeding it to the savage creatures of my nightmares. Maybe it was slightly pathetic of me, but after leaving him alone right when he really needed me, I sobbed until there were no tears left.

After that, I decided it was time for me to straighten up. I would no longer cry myself to sleep for Alfred, not when he needed me to be strong and protect him. Trying not to feel the stress of everyday life, I decided to take a chance for a better-paying job that would give me more money than three separate jobs could ever get me. However, with no college education to speak of, I was an unlikely choice for such an occupation.

I was going to get deeper into the business.

Since Alfred had inherited the store, it had been doing quite well. There was enough money to pay the employees and still have some left to improve on the actual merchandise. We had morphed it into a store less for the elderly and more for children who were interested in the World Wars and such. Now that it was selling, the store was rejuvenated. It was a wavering chance…but as a manager of the store as well, I was going to attempt to buy and open another shop somewhere else. With twice the profit, I would no longer need to wait tables.

Alfred, who couldn't remember anything about the store or the man who had given it to him, would have been thrilled to hear that I was no longer going to be so financially concerned.

I was glad that night when, after a long day of struggling to find and buy more property, the phone rang.

"Hello?" I asked wearily.

"Artie!" said Alfred's cheerful voice from the other end. "Guess what? This place is awesome! It's like a giant vacation! All I have to do is hang out and everyone is so nice! This is way better than high school."

I chuckled, warmth spreading through me at the jovial tone in his voice. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I was initially afraid to leave you there, but… it sounds like you really like it."

"I do! They let me eat whatever I want, as long as they can put weird machines on me and stuff for like an hour! They even said they'd let you stay here a couple nights with me if you wanted to! Artie…I feel better already! I'm going to try really hard to remember for you so that I can come home again!"

Already, in the tone of his voice, I could hear how much this was helping him. He was recovered enough that he could even remember he wasn't supposed to forget. Closing my eyes, I let him continue to blather on about everything he enjoyed in that place. Once again, he was a child, an ecstatic eight-year-old just glad that somebody had cared enough to pick him off the streets, telling me all about who he was. Though Alfred had changed physically over these years, I knew he would never change mentally. Alfred was going to be Alfred. And one day, when he was healed, I was finally going to get my Alfred, the boy that I loved with all my heart, back.

I just had to be patient.


	11. Wicked

**Well, this is it! The very last chapter of Alone Again! Hope you enjoy it and all its cheesiness!**

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><p>I watched them line up, two by two, their robes hanging loosely around their bodies as they chattered excitedly. Graduation day…a day that I'd never had the opportunity to experience. I'd been too busy preparing someone else for the world. And that certain someone was standing there with that large, ridiculous smile on his face with the rest of the J's, waving at me spasmodically from his spot in line.<p>

His robe was pitch black and I found it rather dashing on him, as it brought out the deep azure tones in his eyes and made them seem as if they were glowing. Even his normally spastic blond hair seemed kempt and clean today, though it was quite difficult to see under his cap anyhow. For once in his life, Alfred was incredibly handsome, and the clothes underneath that gown (handpicked by me, of course) made him look even better.

I looked away from him, trying to act as if I hadn't seen him and instead fiddled with my fingers. Despite the fact that I wasn't the one graduating, I was unbelievably nervous. It was strange, really, that he seemed so calm down there, yet I was trying my best to hold in my tears. It made me a fair bit angry, but I tried to ignore that and attempted to force myself to feel more pride in Alfred.

It wasn't as if I wasn't proud; I'd never felt more like boasting to everyone I knew that the street rat I'd pulled off the streets and raised was now graduating college. It was just…difficult to watch someone else live the dreams I'd once had for myself. It was a step too far to call it jealousy…Yet there was that raging desire to be in his expensive designer Italian shoes. Figuratively, of course, not literally.

Before I could start to get a headache from my unorganized thoughts, the music began to play and the students finally took their long, joyful walk down the aisle, one step closer to the freedom they'd been fighting for from the start. One by one, they sat down and the principal said his part, with much cheering from the crowd. After what seemed like an hour long speech, the stout man began to pass out the diplomas, much to everyone's delight.

It took nearly five hours for the ceremony to adjourn, but, finally, it came to an end and I went to go find Alfred, choking back sorrow-tinged happiness as I shoved through the loud, abominable throngs of people. We'd agreed to meet by a statue out front, yet I knew somehow before I'd even gotten there that Alfred had forgotten. Sure enough, he was nowhere to be found when I arrived.

I slapped myself mentally for ever assuming that Alfred could remember things. It had been nearly seven years since his accident, so I'd figured it would turn out alright, but he still sometimes had problems with recollection…mainly things I told him to do. In the beginning, when he had first begun to lose his memories, Alfred had started out only able to remember me. Yet as time had passed, he'd lost more and more until finally, around a year after the crash, he'd forgotten me completely. It had hurt so much then to look into his usually affectionate eyes and see nothing but a blank, uncomprehending stare.

For nearly three months, I'd cried myself to sleep at night, wondering if I would ever have MY Alfred back again.

But just as the doctor had predicted, he'd regained nearly everything within the next two years. By the time he'd graduated from high school, he could remember every detail about how we'd met, how he'd grown up, what had happened…right up until before the crash. Every moment after that remained unreachable, hidden somewhere deep in the crevasses of in his mind.

Which unfortunately excluded the time we'd started dating.

To him, even now, I was still just a friend, an older brother. I hadn't had the guts to retry telling him I was in love with him, nor that we were supposed to be together and he'd never seemed inclined in any way to bring it up. Yes, it was painful, as if I'd lost something I'd tried so hard to gain…but wasn't it better that he didn't remember? He didn't really love me…there's no way he could have. In a moment of confusion, after having his head smashed by a crashing aircraft, he'd told me he loved me. His feelings were no longer the same.

"ARTIE! Yo, Artie!" A very out-of-breath Alfred ran up to me, clutching his diploma in one hand and his cap in the other. He had an unbelievable smile on, one that made my heart throb furiously in my chest.

Trying not to give my true feelings away, I crossed my arms and tried to act annoyed. "How bloody long were you expecting me to wait here for you, little git?" I growled, glaring up at him with eyes as sharp as glass. "I've been here for nearly half an hour!"

Seeming ashamed, he sat down on the statue's ledge next to me and said, his voice low, "Well, I kinda really had to pee…"

"Alfred…did I or did I NOT tell you to go before the ceremony?"

"Uh, you did, but-"

I raised an eyebrow at him, cutting him off. "But what? I specifically told you to go to the bathroom! Why do you never listen to me?"

His bottom lip jutted out in an all-too-familiar gesture. "I DID listen, Artie…I had to pee again."

"You are a complete idiot," I told him with a sigh. My mood suddenly changing, I pulled him into a giant hug and said, my voice cracking embarrassingly, "I'm…I'm very proud of you, Alfred…You did very well."

He hugged me back, stunned, and said, "Thanks, dude! It's only 'cause of you that I even got to go to college at all, though! If you hadn't worked so hard…We should totally go out to dinner now! It's on me, as long as I get to pick the place!"

"And," I said, my voice strict, "you may pick the place as long as it's not fast food. No Burger King or McDonald's."

"Yeah, I know, I know…we should go to the restaurant you used to wait tables at! You always said you liked their food, right?"

Before I could agree, he grabbed my hand in his and began towing me toward where a taxi was waiting, the driver poking in boredom at his cell phone. I'd barely registered what had happened before we were on our way, the roads jammed with congestion from all the cars leaving the ceremony. Alfred, who had failed to release my hand for one second, smiled over at me in a way that had my face flushing pink. Quickly, I stole my hand away, using the window as an excuse not to look at him.

"Why have I never told you how totally awesome you are, Artie?" he asked quietly, genuinely.

"Maybe because you have a large block imbedded in your thick skull?" I suggested, feeling too cranky to care that he was being serious.

However, as it was Alfred, he just laughed. "No, but for real…All I did was ditch you when you gave up your own dreams and stuff for me…I wanna make it up to you!"

I couldn't help but glance over at him. Was Alfred finally maturing enough to realize what a pain in the bum it had been to raise him?

"I'm gonna take you on a trip to New York!"

I felt my lip twitch in irritation. "And what makes you so bloody sure I'd like to go to bloody AMERICA with you? And of all the places, why New York?"

Shocked, he pulled away, his thoughts clearly backpedaling. "Uh…you don't wanna go? I kinda already got it set up and stuff…Artie, you said I could have whatever graduation present I wanted right? Well, I wanna go to New York with you!"

Unsure what to say, I stared into his pleading eyes, already feeling myself succumbing to his desires. "Ugh…fine. I'll go to New York with you."

"SWEET!" He threw his arms around me, pulling his seatbelt as far as it could go. "I love you, Artie!"

"Alfred…" I muttered, pushing him off of me. "Don't just go around saying whatever you like! What if someone were to take you seriously? You're lucky that I know you don't actually love me."

He blinked, surprised. "What're you talking about, dude? I do love you! You're, like, the most amazing person in the world to me!"

"Please…" I grumbled, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. "You love me like a brother, nothing more. Don't act like we're together."

"Wha…?" His eyes were wide with shock, his expression dumbfounded, as if my words were something he couldn't even begin to comprehend. "Artie…Didn't you say you were my boyfriend?"

Astounded that he was suddenly remembering this now, I attempted to ignore the ugly looks the cab driver was giving us. "Um…Yes…I did. Alfred, can we possibly talk about this later?"

"Why? Are you afraid of someone finding out you're gay?" he asked, pushing the topic even further.

"Alfred!" I hissed through my teeth. "We will discuss this LATER."

"Okay, okay! Jeez, dude, what crawled up your butt and died?" he muttered quietly.

I considered answering him, but ultimately decided it was much more efficient to keep my mouth shut.

We arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later, the taxi driver yelling "Nancies!" out after us as we made our way to the building.

I grit my teeth, trying to act as unaffected by the rude man's comment as Alfred seemed to be. In fact, he was more cheerful than usual, his cheeks flushed with a hectic, excited blush as he opened the door for me like a true gentleman. I turned to tell him thank you and compliment him on his etiquette, but something caught my eye and I took a step back just in time for a whole group of people to leap out at the two of us with a loud "SURPRISE!"

"Wh-what in bloody hell?" I spat, clutching onto Alfred's bomber jacket instinctively.

Alfred, who I had been sure would be as shocked as me, pulled me into the restaurant. "It's a surprise party for you!" he explained. "For all the awesome stuff you've done for me! I even got your family to come! Oh, and it's also kinda my graduation party, too, so my family's here, plus a bunch of our friends!"

Uncomprehendingly, I stared into the faces of the crowd, picking out much older versions of all my brothers staring back at me, as well as the face of my mum. "Alfred…" I barely breathed, my throat starting to close with tears. "Alfred…Alfred…You are such a WANKER."

Chuckling, he wrapped his arms around me. "Yeah, it's pretty sweet, right? I was gonna tell you I was taking you to New York at the party, but I figured one surprise at a time would be enough to freak you out!"

"Bloody hell…" I barely recognized the people in front of me. The last time I had laid eyes on Peter, he had been just an infant, and now…he was a teenager.

"Arthur," my mum murmured, holding her arms open for me. "Oh, Artie, I'm so proud of you."

Begrudgingly, I let her hug me and give me a kiss on the cheek, her eyes full of pride. "For doing what?" I grumbled. "I'm not the one who graduated from college."

She shook her head, tears forming. "I'm so sorry I didn't believe in you…Honey, I'm proud that you've become the kind of parent for Alfred I could never be for you. No matter your choices in life, I should have supported you…I know I can never change what I did, but please accept my apology. That's why I'm here. Before I die, I want you to know how incredibly guilty I feel for kicking my thirteen-year-old son out of his home."

Shifting uncomfortably from the stares of all my brothers, I hugged her back awkwardly. "I forgive you, Mum."

"I love you," she told me, before letting go. "Now, let's get you reacquainted with your brothers, alright?"

It was weird to talk to them all after so much time had already passed. It was as if I were a stranger, an abstract piece of the Kirkland family puzzle. Though I had the looks and the attitude, I was lacking something I once had that made me a part of the rest of them. It felt strange to look into Peter's eyes now, to hear Lachlan talk about something other than koalas. Somehow, I knew I would never fit in with my family again. I had chosen a separate path, the path of an outsider. The path that had led me to Alfred.

Speaking of Alfred…I turned to see him talking to Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert. It seemed that no matter where I went, I would never escape the Wanker Trio. Of course, Francis would choose that moment to turn and look at me with that seductive smirk he always wore when speaking to anything with reproductive organs.

"_Bonjour, mon ami,"_ he purred, his arm around Matthew in a seemingly casual brotherly fashion.

It took someone who knew this bloody fool to realize he was groping his little brother's chest.

"You disgusting frog!" I spat. "Unhand Matthew this instant!"

Matthew, who was too shy to speak up for himself, just flushed a deep scarlet color. I heard him mumble quietly, his eyes flicking over to Gilbert anxiously, as if he were wondering when the dense bastard was going to realize his boyfriend was being molested before his unnaturally creepy red eyes.

"Whatever do you mean, my little British punk?" Francis laughed, swishing a glass of wine in his left hand perversely.

"Wait…the awesome me really wonders what he means!" Gilbert spouted, as nonsensical as ever.

I crossed my arms, glaring pointedly at Francis's wandering right hand.

Gilbert finally seemed to get the hint. "Hey!" he shouted, pushing Francis away. "Get your own sexy Canadian!"

The damned frog just chuckled as usual, taking a sip of his drink.

"Thank you…" Matthew breathed, looking relieved to have Gilbert clinging to him instead.

I sighed in frustration, smacking Alfred upside his rather large head. "You need to be more aware of your surroundings!"

"Ow…That's not fair, how was I supposed to be able to tell he was doing that to Mattie?"

"You have eyes. Use them," I nagged, but my heart was no longer in it. He was looking down at me with that smile again…I could feel my heart accelerate. "What?" Suddenly, in front of all these people, his loving gaze made me feel self-conscious.

"Hey, Artie? Y'know what we were talking about in the taxi on the way over here? The boyfriend stuff?" he asked. "Well…can we talk about it now? Everyone's distracted…Mom and your mom are talking…my friends are all messing around…so is it okay if I ask you again?"

My resistance melted with the look on his face. "Yes, it's fine now. And yes, I did say you were my boyfriend many, many years ago…I was sure you'd forgotten that."

"I did…" he admitted. "But it totally just came back to me during the graduation thing! I told you I loved you, you told me you loved me and then we-"

"ALFRED!" I yelled, stopping him. Nervously, I looked down to my shoes. "I quite remember what happened after that, thanks."

With a ridiculous smile, he planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek. "Why didn't you tell me again? I mean, like, after I started remembering stuff! I kept on acting like you were just my brother and stuff…that must've sucked so much."

"Because, you insolent fool, if I had just gone up to you and told you we were once together while you couldn't remember it, one, you would've forgotten and two…well, what if you hadn't believed me? That would have hurt worse than anything…"

Gently, he stroked my hair with his hand, his eyes unintentionally seductive. "Artie…I wanna kiss you, but I'm afraid you'd freak."

I sighed as he voiced the desire that had been growing ever so slightly in me since we'd arrived here. "Just a quick one," I allowed, glancing over toward the group of people who were now getting something to eat.

Saying nothing in agreement, he pulled me toward him by my tie, while pushing me back lightly against the wall, his mouth meeting mine hotly. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so hungry for him…I found myself clutching my fingers in his hair, latching him to me, though I had been the one who'd ordered him to make it quick. Alfred didn't seem to mind my change of plans much; he just moved so our bodies fit closely together, the heat of the moment getting to us both. Just when it seemed impossible to stop, there was a whistle and it was as if someone had dumped cold water on us. Shocked, I released my grip and let him step away, curious to see who had interrupted such an incredible moment.

I was shocked to find that it hadn't been Francis this time; it had been Barclay. Not only that, but we seemed to have gained the attention of the whole congregation…every single pair of eyes was on us now, including my mum's. I could feel my face flame to the tips of my ears in embarrassment. Our spectators expressions varied from entranced, to mildly intrigued, to completely astounded…I considered leaving, but my stomach growled furiously and I knew I had to stay, if only to get something to eat.

"Arthur!" my mom gasped in shock. "You told me you weren't gay! You told me he wasn't like that to you!"

Distressed, I used the only defense I had; anger. "That's none of your bloody business! Please refrain from saying such things in public!" I snarled, shoving past everyone's gawking to get some food.

Alfred just followed, taking my hand reassuringly and giving it a firm squeeze, as if he were telling me he was here for me.

The rest of the night was incredibly awkward after that. Francis wouldn't cease his blabbering about the kiss, Barclay wouldn't stop telling me he supported my choice, my mum wouldn't stop acting like her mind was completely blown, and, worst of all, Alfred tried not to make me even more uncomfortable by avoiding me for the rest of the party.

By the time everybody had gone, I felt as if I were going to have a nervous breakdown.

"Honestly, my own mother can't even tell when I'm lying, and I'm a terrible liar…" I grouched on the way back to our house.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen…I shouldn't have kissed you," Alfred told me, though he didn't seem at all sorry. "But I'm kinda just a little glad I did. It gave me a reason to explain to my mom why I was still living with you."

I sighed in frustration, looking sleepily out the window at the smoggy night sky. If I squinted, I could just make out some stars shining brightly through the dense fog. "Well, yes, I suppose she would have had to know anyhow. However…it appears not one of her children is entirely straight. Barclay doesn't care…the other four seem to be acting as if they can hide their homosexuality. But Mum's not entirely stupid."

"Yeah, my mom's pretty shocked, but hey, we spent half our lives together! How could I not fall for a sexy English dude like you?" Alfred joked, but the feeling behind the words was real.

The next morning, I found myself stuck in an airplane and shipped off to America like a bag of luggage. I hadn't expected the flight to be so soon, and Alfred hadn't had the decency to tell me so that I could pack some things ahead of time, so I had spent at least an hour early this morning hurriedly throwing stuff into a bag and scolding him for being such an airhead. Now that I was on the plane itself, though, I couldn't seem to keep my eyes open long enough to nag him.

* * *

><p>Asleep for the whole trip, I couldn't believe we were already there when Alfred shook me awake fourteen hours later.<p>

I'd never imagined, despite what I'd been told, that a city could be so incredibly _insane_. There were people everywhere, cars clogging the streets, loud noises, bright neon signs, weird smells…the place was absolutely filthy. Yet something about New York City excited me, made me grin at Alfred just a bit for bringing me here. He, however, was completely enthralled by the surreal beauty of the large, towering buildings. Nothing failed to amuse him, including the disgustingly obese man on the corner of the street selling hotdogs.

"Dude, those hotdogs have, like, EVERYTHING on them!" he gasped, grabbing onto my sleeve and pointing. "And the guy selling them has a monkey on his shoulder!"

I glared over at the fat man, not having noticed the cheeky little monkey hanging onto him. "That's incredibly unsanitary," I complained, unable to shake my snobby upbringing even in such a fun place. "Please…at least get your nasty, fattening hotdogs from someone who washes their hands."

Alfred sighed, staring longingly at the monkey. "You don't know he doesn't wash his hands…Think he'd let me pet his monkey?"

"Alfred, please at least waste your money on something worth wasting it on," I told the younger man crankily, exhausted from the time change. "No, I don't believe he's going to let you pet his monkey."

Suddenly, startling me, he grabbed my hand and started pulling me like a freight train, saying, "Hey, I totally forgot that I talked to my mom and she helped me get us a nice hotel to stay at! I wanna show you! It's SWEET, dude. The pool has a waterslide!"

"You're twenty-two years old and all you care for in a hotel is that the pool has a waterslide…You're a bloody idiot. Did you even bother to look at whether the rooms were decent?"

"Of course I did…pfft…"

I groaned, imagining the torturous filth I was going to be sleeping in tonight with a hint of malice. "Alfred…can't you do anything yourself?"I grouched, not realizing that he had just yanked me into the lobby of said "filth-bucket."

His eyes widened in wonder as he stared around, mesmerized. "Apparently!" he said smugly. "That's right! And the hero does it again!"

Everything was spotless and colorful, a perfect combination of the bright neon of the city outside and the cool, soft richness of much more muted colors. Even to me, a child brought up in an upper-class home, the place seemed rather exquisite. Looking around, a new fear was brought into my heart.

"Um, Alfred…" I said, my voice low. "PLEASE tell me you didn't pay too much for all this."

"It's cool, relax! The room was discounted already, plus I used the money I earned from my own job for the whole trip. It's a gift for you," he said sweetly, taking my hand. "Don't worry so much or you'll go bald!"

True to the nature of the hotel, the room Alfred had picked out was just as beautiful as the rest of the city, and incredibly tasteful, as an added bonus. A relief from the usual altogether tackiness of Alfred. Tired, I threw myself onto the bed and closed my eyes, ready to call it quits for today despite the fact that it was only three o' clock. I felt Alfred get on the bed next to me, heard him breathing quietly as he snuggled up close.

"Artie, you can't go to sleep yet!" he whined into my ear. "There's something we gotta do first!"

"Ugh, Alfred, we can eat later…" I mumbled, exhaustion overcoming hunger.

"No, no! Not that! Well…yeah, we gotta do that too, but I meant I'm gonna take you somewhere in a couple hours!" His smile was large when I opened my eyes. "So, I know how much you like musicals…and I got tickets to Wicked."

Intrigued, I sat up a little further. "You got tickets to Wicked?"

"Yup! I had to ask your mom for help on what musical to pick, but I figured the rest out on my own!" It was clear he was proud of himself. "But before that, we're gonna go eat dinner at a place called Ellen's Stardust Diner! It's, like, this awesome diner place where aspiring actors wait your tables and sing songs and stuff!"

"Wow, Alfred," I said, astonished. "You've grown up a bit more than I thought. You did this for me?"

Closing his eyes, he cuddled closer to me, squeezing me in a vice grip hug. "Sure did! Well, it was also a little bit for me, 'cause I like New York, but it was mostly just to thank you for loving me and stuff!" Apprehensive, he paused and looked over at me, our faces just inches apart. "So…do you like it?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to snuff out my any evidence of how touched by his gesture I truly was. "You…why, after so long, I do believe I've finally run out of insults for what you are…Yes…I like it. Quite a bit."

"You're gonna like it even more...later," he chuckled.

"Please tell me you aren't referring to…"

"You know it!"

I made a noise of disgust in the back of my throat. "Bloody hell…you're starting to sound like Gilbert. Just don't flounce around with a nasty bird on your head and preach in every sentence how "awesome" you are."

His face took on a tragic, miserable expression. "But Artie…" he said, his voice somber. "I AM awesome! I'm the hero!"

I scoffed at him, ignoring his enticing puppy-dog eyes. "Please. You're as much of a hero as I am a fairy princess, you git."

He gave me a considering look, a smile slowly stretching across his lips.

"Oh, for the love of- let's just go get something to eat already," I told him, grouchily shoving him away from me. "You're ridiculous! Honestly, the one moment I feel as if you're being mature…why must you always ruin the mood? I swear, if you were just a smidgen more idiotic, I would hate you."

He took my hand again, ignoring my insults with a happy smile, as usual. "You can't hate me! You picked me off the streets and saved my life!"

We spent the rest of the beautiful, if slightly smelly, evening out on the town, visiting stores, eating at the diner, wasting time before making our way to Broadway. The musical was, of course, amazing, just as the book had been... it had always been a secret desire of mine to go to see Wicked on stage somewhere.

Afterwards, it was nearly midnight, yet everything was still as bustling and busy as it had been earlier. New York City truly was the city that never slept…there was no sign that a single store was planning on closing any time in the near future. I watched the people tiredly as Alfred half-dragged me back to the hotel, his hand firm around mine. I was astonished to see how many other same-sex couples there were here… I had been so sure being a homosexual was frowned upon in America.

Then, of course, I remembered we were in New York. Same-sex marriage had just been declared legal here not too long ago.

Glad that we turned no heads as we walked down the streets, I was finally able to honestly enjoy holding hands with Alfred. For the first time, I allowed myself to focus on how his larger, yet softer hand felt in my own rough one. It was almost like a child's hand, as he had never done an ounce of hard labor in his twenty-two years; I had made sure of that. I'd spoiled him beyond any rational belief. Yet here we stood so many years later, hand in hand, HIM spoiling ME for a change. Obviously I had done something right.

Exhausted from our long day, the minute we were back I collapsed onto the bed with a large yawn. "That was incredible…" I told Alfred, not bothering to change into my night clothes. "I really enjoyed it."

Almost like a child, Alfred flung himself next to me before turning the light off and placing his arms around me once more. "Tomorrow's gonna be even better!" he promised. "I have another surprise for you!"

I nearly groaned, except he looked so excited that I couldn't help but feel slightly enthralled. "Really? Another one?"

"Yeah." His voice had taken on an alarmingly gentle tone, his eyes full of sentimentality behind his glasses.

I had to admit, it frightened me a little.

"That's…that's fantastic…" I lied, turning away so I couldn't see the burning passion in his gaze. "Well, I'm going to sleep now…goodnight, Alfred."

"Goodnight, Artie!" I could almost see the massive smile on his face.

I closed my eyes, sighing as the weight of the day pulled my eyelids shut with force. Dancing in the darkness, my mind began conjuring up strange images…perhaps it was the shock of being forced to New York so suddenly, or maybe the fantastic night I had just had, but I was sure I had never dreamed so forcefully about Alfred before.

_He looked fabulous in a tuxedo …I had always known he would. However, I was much more astonished by what he was holding sheepishly in his hand. It was beautiful; it had to be real with the way it caught the light and the phantasmagorical way it glimmered. It was even more gorgeous than my mother's wedding ring had been. There seemed to be nothing else in the world that compared to such a fantastic jewel…But why was Alfred holding this out to me? Was…was the git actually asking to MARRY me? His face held no ounce of insecurity, no matter how long I gazed at him. He seemed completely confident, albeit slightly embarrassed._

"_I swear, I'll be with you for the rest of your life! I'll protect you no matter what, 'cause that's what heroes do! C'mon, Artie…will you let me be your hero?"_

_I couldn't speak; it seemed that my voice was a thousand miles away. I could only stare in fascinated horror at the look on his face and the ring he had inclined toward me. _

I awoke, astonished, in the middle of the night. Looking around, I could see no evidence that Alfred was prepared to pull the stunt my mind had conjured up. In fact, he was sprawled across our bed, partially on top of me, snoring lightly and drooling carelessly. This was not the type of man to do anything romantic…especially commit to me so fully.

Ridiculously, I felt my heart sink, knowing that Alfred could never be the lover I wished for. It was absolutely foolish that I'd expected him to propose to me…did I even want to marry an idiot like him anyway? There were plenty of others out there, many who had at least the IQ of a squirrel. Maybe I had been hasty when telling Alfred I loved him. I was sure that my old neighbor…what was her name…would have been happy to date me. She was pretty, smart, and successful. Not to mention a WOMAN.

Yet I couldn't picture myself with anyone else but him.

I had spent a good majority of my life on Alfred. I'd always known what sort of man he was. Why was it suddenly hitting me now that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him?

Blaming the early hour for my spasmodic thinking, I decided to settle down again and decided ponder this more tomorrow…curling back up, I was asleep in a matter of minutes.

* * *

><p>From the moment I woke up the next morning, I was on high alert, incredibly suspicious. I was sure Alfred was planning something, especially when he suggested that we just relax for the day, until dinner. He told me he was going to take me to a nice place, a restaurant that he had personally picked out just for me…but only after a nice, quiet day at the hotel. Alone. With just him and me.<p>

He didn't seem too worried about his decision, as if he were deliberating whether he should do this or not. In fact, he appeared to be acting no different from usual. It unnerved me, made me highly uncomfortable. If he was planning something nefarious, I wanted to see it coming. Alfred had never struck me as much of an actor, as he was terrible liar and secret-keeper. I was sure that knowing that fact would appease my flaming curiosity and growing paranoia, but it just seemed to make it worse, kindling the fire burning within me.

Finally, after half a day of lying around and watching TV, I decided to try and sneak his plans out of him. Swallowing all my pride, I found myself cuddling into him and saying, "You know, I had an unbelievable dream about you last night."

He seemed surprised by my sudden attention, but in no way protesting. "Sweet! Can I hear?"

"Of course." I struggled to keep my composure. "Well, for some reason, you were dressed up nicely and had a tuxedo on. As if that weren't shocking enough, you were holding out a stunning diamond ring to…someone. And you said something about being this someone's hero…you, um, were asking if they would let you be their hero…it was rather shocking. Is…I'm sorry, is this weird?"

Still smiling the same smile, his expression unchanged, Alfred chuckled, "Nah, I think I must've liked this someone a lot! Hey, maybe it was you, Artie!"

I felt my face flush. "M-maybe."

"So…you dream about me often?"

Knowing my haphazard plan had backfired, I pushed away from him, moving to the other side of the couch to sulk. "No. I absolutely do not. Forget I mentioned it."

"Aw, Artie, don't be like that! It's almost time for dinner, anyway! You'll feel better once you eat something!" He offered me his hand, clicking the TV off with his other.

Begrudgingly, I took it and let him lead me downstairs to the restaurant in the hotel. I almost complained that we hadn't left this place all day, until I noticed something that had me frozen in place. There was a sign in the front that stated "England Day". I looked up at Alfred cautiously. "What in hell is "England Day"? You do realize this is America?"

His excitement was evident. "Yup! This restaurant is kind of a cosplay-type restaurant! So I thought I'd make you feel at home, since everything's gonna be Britishy today, even the menu!"

I stared at the strange Asian waiter waiting patiently to seat us. His clothes were a definite style from the old days in England…

"How do you do?" I asked him, knowing what I was going to get in response.

He tipped his hat courteously, and in the most terrible excuse for an English, he said, "Welcome, mates! Table for two?"

Alfred seemed pleased, nodding his approval as we were seated. I attempted to refrain from growling at the absolute racism going on around me.

"'Ello! My name is Im Yong Soo, and I'll be your waiter this evening! Can I get you some crumpets and tea?"

Oh, this was going to be a long, long night…

I was grateful when we finally returned back to the room, though I wasn't going to tell Alfred that. It had been quite the interesting experience watching a foolish Korean boy run around and pretend to be English and the food had been decent. All in all, dinner had been rather pleasant, until of course Im Yong Soo had told me how great of a costume I had prepared. After that, Alfred had requested some privacy from the eccentric Oriental, knowing my temper was flaring.

Now that we were back in the room and I was fed, I couldn't help but wonder what exactly Alfred had planned next…Wonderingly, I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs, watching him grin at me.

"Dude, Im Yong Soo…he was AWESOME!" he told me, sitting down beside me. "I'm sorry if you didn't like that place, but I thought it was cool!"

"No, no…it was definitely an experience worth having," I told him honestly. "Though I'd have much rather preferred a waiter with a more believable accent."

Alfred laughed. "It sounded good to me!"

"Of course it did. You aren't nearly as educated on true English culture as I."

Suddenly, Alfred's joking mood was gone, a more serious look replacing his smile. "Artie? Do you love me? Like, as much as you say you do?"

My mood shifting to more closely the intensity of my environment, I said, "Of course I do…what's this all of a sudden? Are you nervous about something?"

His smile came back, full of warmth and love. "Not anymore! See, I've kinda been thinking about something… and I was wondering how much you really knew me. But now I'm sure you know me better than anyone else! So…" He reached into his pocket, removing a small blue velvet box and opening it, revealing a ring almost a dazzling in its beauty as the one from my dream. "I swear, I'll be with you for the rest of your life…I'll protect you no matter what, 'cause that's what heroes do! Artie, I know this is totally random, but…will you let me be your hero?"

Unlike in my dream, however, I didn't seem to be able to stop stuttering. "B-B-bu…A-Alfred! Wh-what….h-h-how long have you….." I took a deep breath, ignoring the stupid tears of happiness starting to well in my eyes. "Y-you want me…to marry you?"

He took me in his arms, cradling me gently. "Marry me, run away with me, elope with me, whatever. I just want to be with you for the rest of my life, Artie. I wanna make sure you're really mine. And I promise with all my heart, I'm gonna make sure you're never alone again."


End file.
